Discarded Cigarettes
by Chaos-chick3
Summary: They used to be roommates. Friends. Maybe even more. How did things fall apart so quickly? HarryDraco, AU. In progress.
1. Prologue

Please note, I do not own Harry Potter, this story is AU, and most likely will contain slash and eventually get upped to an M rating as it progresses. I already traded my soul for the privilege of viewing hot boy sex between Harry and Draco, so it's no use praying for me. I appreciate it though.

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            _Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep..._

            Draco rolled over with a groan and slammed his hand down on the nightstand, groping blindly for the alarm clock.  He hated the thing, but Harry had given it to him several years ago. 

            "Blasted device..." he muttered, cursing when he knocked it onto the floor by accident.  "Bugger!  Stupid bloody alarm clocks, stupid Potter..."  He gave up and pulled the blankets up around him again, pulling his pillow down over his head and tightly around his ears.

            _Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep..._

            Was it possible?  Had the stupid thing gotten even louder?

            _Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep..._

            "SHUT UP!!" he roared, knowing it was ridiculous but unable to stop himself from throwing a fist-pounding, leg-kicking tantrum.  "Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!" 

He fully expected his roommate to come crashing into his bedroom to laugh at him for being so childish, but the door stayed shut.  Vaguely, he wondered if Harry had already left for the day.

            _Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep..._

            Oh.  That's right. 

            _Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep..._

Harry had moved out three months ago.

            _Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep..._

            Suddenly lacking the energy to be angry, he pushed the bedclothes aside and climbed out of bed, stooping to pick up the alarm clock. 

            _Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep..._

            Harry had given it to him as a gag gift when they moved in together.  Neither of them did real gifts; Harry was too self-conscious to give Draco a homemade gift like he gave his other friends, while Draco had grown up with a lavish allowance but no family practices of gift giving.  The clock was a cheap children's timepiece, featuring a bright pink cartoon dragon cuddling an equally bright orange teddy bear that clashed horribly with the dragon and with the blindingly purple clock face.  A nametag dangled from the dragon's neck; here, Harry had written "The Amazing Draco Malfoy and His Esteemed Teddy Bear" in permanent marker, complete with elaborate curlicues and little hearts dotting the i's. 

            _Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep..._

            It was an utterly tasteless hunk of poorly molded plastic, and Draco loved it.

            _Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep..._

            Sighing, he twisted the dragon's tail, halting the annoying beeping noise before placing it back on the nightstand and heading towards the bathroom for his morning ablutions.  As he stood in front of the mirror brushing his teeth, he felt a pang of loneliness when only his own reflection stared back at him, no Harry laughing in the background trying to nudge him aside.  How had they come to this?   

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Reviews make the author happy! 


	2. Chapter 1: The Apartment

Still don't own Harry Potter! Will later contain slash, and the story is AU and probably characters are a bit OOC, I'm not really bending over backwards to conform to their Rowling-based characters. Enjoy!

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"Draco darling, don't you think it's a bit small?"

Draco rolled his eyes as his mother looked around the apartment he'd chosen, the barely perceptible twitching of her left eyebrow giving away her skepticism.

"Mother, it's only for the school year, I don't imagine I'll be in here that often. I never used all those extra rooms we had at the mansion anyways, this is the perfect size for two people—" Narcissa turned sharply at his last statement, a frown creasing her forehead.

"Two people? Draco, you have a roommate? And don't roll your eyes at me," she scolded, noticing Draco's exasperation. "Darling, you know Daddy can afford to pay for a nice apartment of your own, you don't need to share—"

"Mother, I _want _to. You know, the whole roommate college experience thingy," added Draco, when his mother continued looking at him with the same uncomprehending frown.

"But darling—" Narcissa stopped, recognizing her son's stubborn expression. "Well, who is it? Blaise? Vincent? Teddy?"

Draco winced a bit at the childish moniker, imagining Theo's response if he'd heard Narcissa using that particular nickname. "No, Mother—"

"Pansy?!" his mother gasped, immediately jumping to conclusions when she heard Draco's negative answer regarding his usual friends. "Draco, I will not stand for you rooming with a girl. I know you and Pansy are close, but I really don't think it is at all appropriate—"

"Bloody hell, Mother, I'm not rooming with Pansy!" Draco snapped, successfully derailing his mother's train of thought (while earning a stern "Language, Draco!" from her at the same time). "Anyways, Pansy and I are taking a break at the moment—Mother! Get off!" He struggled out of his mother's awkward embrace; while he was sure she meant it to be comforting, he really didn't need any comforting at the moment.

"Oh Draco, you must be upset—"

Draco scowled. "Mother, if you could listen to me without interrupting every five seconds! Pansy and I decided months ago, before we even graduated. We figured what with us going to different colleges so far away, it really didn't make sense to be exclusive. Anyways, we both wanted to date around a bit, see who else is out there, you know?"

"Oh darling, I'm so proud of you for making such a difficult decision!" Narcissa gushed, beaming at her son. "I know you must be hurting now, but it really is all for the best—" Draco's glare was positively murderous by now, and his mother laughed. "All right, all right, I'll be quiet. So who is your roommate?"

"I don't know yet—" Draco put up a hand, forestalling his mother's protests. "However, I've already posted notices online and on the bulletin board. Since the apartment is mine and I'll be subletting it to whoever stays here, I will personally interview anyone interested, thus eliminating those who are obviously incompatible and weeding out the mad ax men, junkies, drug dealers, rapists, murderers, thieves, and anyone else you're worried about."

"But Draco, you've never shared a room with anyone before—"

"And I won't now. It's a two bedroom apartment, Mother."

"There's only one bathroom—"

"Mother, I _want_ this, ok? Roommate college experience thingy, remember?" When his mother looked unconvinced, Draco slumped onto the sofa. "All my life I've been pampered. I just wanted to see what it would be like to be normal, you know? Live amongst the plebians, see what it's like being one of the little people. Have a normal college experience, even if it means fighting with messy flatmates and washing my own dishes—"

"Draco, you _never_ wash your own dishes!" Narcissa interrupted, unable to keep quiet at this. "And besides, you don't even know how to cook—"

"Mother!" Draco yelled, shocking Narcissa into silence. He took a deep breath, then let it out. "I'm sorry, Mother, I shouldn't have shouted. But please, just let me try this?"

Narcissa caved, the same way she caved to practically every other request her son had ever made. "All right, Draco, you can try it. But the minute you want out, you come right back to the mansion, don't hang about being miserable because you're too proud to say so. Is this place safe? Do you have a good security system? Make sure you lock the door every night, and I want to meet your roommate when you've decided who you're rooming with, and if there's anything you need at all, don't hesitate to ask..."

Draco tuned his mother out, knowing the important part was already decided. He hummed quietly (under his breath of course, since his mother was still talking) as he looked around the room again, smiling at what he saw.

The flat was nothing special but that was exactly why he liked it. Neither shabby nor luxurious, it was comfortably, satisfyingly _normal_. The white walls and cream-colored carpet and furniture gave the place a simple elegance that was welcoming rather than intimidating like so many of the Malfoy properties. A large, glass sliding door took up one entire wall and opened up onto a small balcony with a beautiful view of the park. A floor to ceiling mirror on the opposite wall made the room look bigger while concealing a decent-sized closet (or at least Draco supposed it was a decent size—his closet at home was larger than the bedrooms in most of the dorms on campus, but he assumed that this closet was fairly large, compared to what most people had). The kitchen area adjacent to the living room was a bit small, as was wont in such apartments, but there was plenty of cabinet space and the appliances were all new; plus, his mother had been correct when she said he didn't know how to cook, so he probably wouldn't use it that much anyways. The living room opened into a hallway that led to Draco's bedroom and the yet-unknown flatmate's room, as well as a fair-sized bathroom (again, the bathroom wasn't even the size of Draco's entire bathtub at home, but he assumed it was fair-sized for normal people).

The apartment had come furnished with a single twin-sized bed, which Draco left in the other bedroom for the flatmate. For himself, he purchased a queen-sized bed and a large wardrobe to hold the rest of the clothes he brought that couldn't fit into the dressers and closet in his bedroom. There was enough space left for a sturdy desk, a comfortable chair, and a small bookshelf without making the room feel too crowded. A window above his desk let in sunlight and faced the same beautiful park that the balcony did. All in all, he felt it was a pretty nice apartment; perhaps it was a little on the larger side, but despite all his wishes to live _normally_, a Malfoy could only go so far. He wasn't about to live in one of the school dorms, for example!

Yes, it was the perfect apartment for Draco Malfoy's venture into plebian lifestyle. He turned back to his mother with a smile as she wound down.

"Now be sure to call and email often, Draco," Narcissa chided as her son escorted her towards the door. In a rare display of physical affection, she threw her arms around him and gave him a fierce hug. "I can't believe my baby boy's all grown up and going to college! Oh Draco, I'll miss you."

Surprised by the unexpected embrace, Draco hugged his mother back. "Don't worry, I'll be sure to call you and Father often, Mother. Thank you for visiting and helping me settle in."

Sniffling a bit, Narcissa smiled at her son and straightened his collar. "Of course, darling. I have to be off now or I'll be late for the book club, otherwise I would take you to dinner again—"

"Mother, you took me to dinner yesterday and it was lovely," Draco interrupted. "Go on, don't miss your book club meeting on my account, Mother. It was wonderful seeing you. Say hello to Father for me."

After a few more minutes of social niceties and farewells (along with a liberal helping of Narcissa's motherly fussing), Draco's mother left with a final wave and reminder to call. Draco locked the door and closed the blinds over the glass door. Glancing around to make sure no windows were uncovered and nobody would witness his next move, he broke out into a broad grin and let out a whoop, performing a little victory dance around the living room. He was finally on his own!

--

Review please! Next time...the roommate interviews begin!

I'm having some difficulty with all my indents disappearing when I upload the chapters...anybody have solutions? I end up needing to go through and correct them after I've uploaded it, which is kind of annoying. Thanks!


	3. Chapter 2: Roommate Interviews

Draco woke up early the next morning, his excitement propelling him out of bed at a time of day that had never before seen him conscious. He hummed as he made his way to the bathroom; here, there were no parents, no servants, nobody to see him and reprimand him for his lack of proper decorum as he danced in front of the mirror in his boxers. Granted, he would have to tone it down a bit once his flatmate moved in (being himself was one thing, but completely forsaking all semblance of dignity was something else entirely), but still! The prospect of living with someone who had no prior expectations as to his behavior made him giddy with happiness and he spun in a circle (no, he wasn't _twirling_, Draco Malfoy didn't _twirl_), shimmying and shaking his hips as he sang.

"Shake your bon-bon, shake your bon-bon..." He snatched up his hairbrush, singing into it like a microphone. "I'm a desperado, underneath your window—"

_THUMP!_ The windows rattled and Draco paused, staring suspiciously at the floor where the sound came from. A slightly muffled (but very clearly disgruntled) voice protested, "Oi! It's 6 in the bloody morning, keep it DOWN!"

Fighting madly to contain his blush (well, at least they'd only heard him and couldn't actually see him), Draco cleared his throat and called back "Er...sorry about that, didn't mean to bother you!"

When nobody answered, Draco took that to mean the owner of the voice had gone back to bed. He turned back to the sink, mortified that his first morning had gotten off to such an embarrassing start. As he began brushing his teeth, a thought occurred to him.

"It's only SIX?? Bloody hell, the first interview isn't until 10! What am I going to do for four HOURS?" he asked his reflection, not noticing that his voice had gotten louder again in his consternation.

Another thunderous _THUMP_ greeted his words. "I don't care WHAT you do, just do it quietly!" the unknown voice shouted at him, and Draco flinched.

"Sorry, sorry!" Finished washing up, he beat a hasty retreat from the bathroom. Perhaps the pipes made the sound carry more easily? He didn't think he'd been _that_ loud.

--

Two hours later, Draco had combed his hair to shining perfection, trimmed his nails, exfoliated his skin, toured the entire apartment again, rearranged the books on his shelf in alphabetical order by author, color coded the pens in his drawer, made his bed, checked his email thirty times (one of which had led to the discovery that his earliest appointment had rescheduled an hour later, causing him to howl with frustration and waking the downstairs neighbor again for another awkward THUMP-shut up-apology sequence), changed his shirt four times and his pants five times, turned every appliance on and off three times, taken his books off the shelf and rearranged them a second time (alphabetically by title this time), and was currently slouched on the sofa, complaining of his boredom (under his breath, to avoid waking the grumpy voice) while watching the clock.

Fortunately for the downstairs neighbor, the early hour combined with Draco's previous exertion meant that he promptly fell asleep on the couch after a few minutes. In his dreams, he greeted countless numbers of faceless, nameless strangers while clad only in a horrific elephant man-thong (Blaise had once given him one as a joke); none of the strangers seemed to notice his undress as they shook his hand and declared how pleased they were to meet him. He had just turned away from the last one, telling him that he'd be right back as soon as he put the earmuffs on the cookie, when the doorbell rang.

_Ding-dong._

Draco opened his left eye, wondering hazily when his mother had installed a doorbell to his room and why his bed felt so uncomfortable. When he saw the clock (now reading 11:58) and heard the doorbell again, both eyes shot open and he snapped upright. The roommate!

_Ding-dong_.

"I'm coming!" he called, patting at his hair and clothes with his hands. He strode to the door and pulled it open, extending a hand. "I'm Draco, nice to meet.." His words caught in his throat as he stared at an enormous chest and pair of shoulders, upon which sat a wild tangle of hair and beard. "..you," he finished, eyes watering as the smell hit him. For a moment, he had thought that he was still dreaming, but there was no way his imagination could have come up with this stench on its own. "Er..." He cringed, seeing the stranger's boots were caked with mud, dust, bits of toilet paper, and was that part of a pigeon? "Leave your shoes by the door, and please, come in."

The giant (there was really no other word to describe such a huge man, Draco decided) said his name was Rubeus Hagrid, employed as a custodian at the same university that Draco would be attending. When Draco asked politely for his cell phone number so that he might call back with his decision later, the big man frowned and began digging through his pockets, unearthing several handfuls of dry dog food, a good deal of lint, and a sleepy mole (upon seeing it, Draco shrieked and jerked back, knocking over his chair and falling rather inelegantly on his arse. He half expected the downstairs neighbor to complain again, but it seemed he'd gone out) before pulling out a battered looking cell phone.

"I jest gots it the day before," he boomed, flipping it open. "Don't know me own number yet. Let's see...'ere it is! 213-764-5382."

Draco copied the number down, thanked the man for coming and showed him out. He waited until Hagrid was down the hall before clamping a hand over his nose and mouth and gagging, rushing to open the windows and the sliding door to allow fresh air into the apartment. Except for the smell and a few stray bits of kibble, no other signs of Hagrid's visit were visible (Draco was relieved to see that his carpets were unmarked; at least Hagrid's socks had been clean, in stark contrast to his boots).

The next few interviews were equally disappointing, though less harsh on Draco's nose. He turned away one girl at the door, explaining that he would only accept male roommates (actually, it was because looking at the infected boil on one of her triple chins turned his stomach). Another girl, whom he invited in because she was quite attractive, offered to pay her rent with sex rather than money. Although tempted to accept, Draco regretfully turned her away, citing the same reason that he'd given boil-girl; after all, his mother and possibly Pansy would be visiting, and living with a girl would just be inconvenient except for when he wanted a shag.

He also met a few other male students whom he promised to call back when he'd decided. The first, Ron Weasley, was a definite no. Draco had set out a bowl of chips, both for his own empty stomach and for his guests, and Ron had immediately thrown himself onto the couch near the bowl and helped himself to a handful before the words had left Draco's lips. He proceeded to chew and talk to Draco for the next few minutes, oblivious to the bits of food that fell out of his mouth and onto the floor. Aside from his lack of manners, the boy seemed nice enough; loud, boisterous, a bit hotheaded, and Draco decided he would tolerate him if he met him on campus, but he simply could not live with him.

Oliver Wood came next. Tall and ruggedly handsome, Draco was not surprised when he learned that Oliver was captain of the school football team. He considered giving Oliver the room based on that alone; after all, he was bound to be popular, and it would be a good way to meet people. However, he held back on making a hasty decision before meeting the other prospective flatmates. Oliver's popularity could very easily turn into a drawback; either Draco would meet and be included in his circle of friends, or that same circle of friends could easily exclude him without a second thought. No, Draco decided, better to room with someone who also had no friends at this campus yet either. He thanked Oliver for coming, earning a hearty clap on the back.

"No problem, I'll see you around campus! You're a bit small for the football team, but you could always try out for the cheerleading squad, eh, Drakie?" The larger boy burst out laughing at his joke, not noticing Draco's scowl (his slight build had always been a bit of a sore point with him. It wasn't his fault he took after his mother!)

Draco hid an internal wince as he muttered something vague and showed Oliver out. Definitely not Oliver either, then.

Three hours later, Draco sat waiting for his last interviewee. The happy mood he'd been in that morning was all but gone; he'd already met 7 prospective roommates (9 if you counted the two girls, but only 5 if you counted neither the girls nor the Weasley twins), and none of them were quite what he was looking for. On the plus side, he had befriended quite a few people he wouldn't mind hanging out with once the semester started, even if he had absolutely no desire to live with them.

After Oliver left, Draco met two more Weasleys, each with a penchant for pranks of poor taste, in Draco's opinion. But he supposed that his judgment might be a little biased due to his involvement as a victim in said pranks. When pressured—namely by Draco holding one in a headlock and threatening to knee him in the bollocks—they conceded that pranking someone when you wanted something from them was not the best way to go about it, and admitted that neither of them were actually interested in the space; they'd merely wanted a new victim who didn't already know of them.

Terry Boot showed up just as Draco finished restoring the apartment to its pre-Weasley condition; and while he was neat and well mannered, his bookish nature and list of demands made Draco feel as if his mother were offering to move in.

"I go to bed at 10:30 and study before then, so I would like it if we had quiet hours from 7 pm to 8 am..."

"Uh huh."

"...stories about crime in this area, so I think we should always have the door locked regardless of whether we're present or not..."

"I see."

"...pre-med, so I really take my studies seriously. No alcohol in the apartment, no parties, no girls unless I'm out, and no more than 3 other people over at once, I think, to keep the noise down, I get the most awful migraines..."

"Mm hmm, I understand," Draco nodded, not really listening as Terry droned on and on. "Well, it was lovely meeting you, I'll give you a call in the next few days once I've made a decision!"

"Likewise, Draco. Although, I need to find a place to live soon before school starts, so if you could make sure to call me this week and let me know, since otherwise I need to start looking around elsewhere..."

It had taken Draco a long time to get rid of Terry.

The interview he'd just finished was with Dean Thomas, perhaps the most suitable so far in terms of personality and habit. To his dismay, Draco realized that his mother's bigotry would never allow her to accept a black roommate no matter that it was a ridiculous bias.

"Um, Dean..." He stopped, unsure of how he could explain it without permanently alienating the other boy. Luckily for him, Dean was immersed in his own quandary and didn't notice.

"Er...Draco, I really like you and all, but I don't think it'll work out, actually."

Both relieved and disappointed, Draco watched him fidget with his hands. Was he embarrassed? "Why, what's the matter?"

"Well..." Dean looked at his hands, avoiding Draco's eyes. "My mum...she...well, shedoesn'tlikewhitepeople." Mistaking Draco's dumbfounded expression for affront, he rushed to explain. "I know, it's really stupid, and I'll still be friends with you and stuff, just I know she won't help me out with rent if I'm living with you, and I really can't afford it on my own—"

"Dean—"

"Please don't be mad, I love my mum, she's really nice and all, she's just a little narrow minded cuz she had a tough time before we moved—"

"It's fi—"

"I'm really sorry, it's just—"

"Dean!" Draco finally got Dean's attention. "It's fine. I kind of have a similar problem, actually." He frowned, wishing their parents weren't quite so stupid about such things. "My mother doesn't really like black people. So I guess this is for the best anyways."

"Oh." Dean was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Do you—"

"No, I don't agree with her," Draco interrupted firmly. "And I'll be very disappointed if you avoid me on campus."

Dean laughed. "No, actually, I was going to ask if you knew your schedule already. I thought we could see if we were in any classes together."

"Oh. Um..."

So Draco pulled up his schedule on his laptop, and the boys compared time tables, finding that they were in the same writing class ("Ugh, I can't wait until we fulfill the writing requirement," Dean commented, and Draco agreed. English was such a soft option, nothing like the sciences he enjoyed) and were taking the same biology course, albeit at different times. They parted in good cheer, with plans to meet for lunch next week ("And bring your roommate, whoever he ends up being," added Dean).

_Ding-dong._

Draco went to the door. "Please be good," he muttered under his breath, crossing his fingers. This was his last chance to find a decent roommate; otherwise, he would have to take his chances with Wood. He opened the door and his jaw dropped.

"Harry Potter!"

--

I know, cliffies are evil. I meant to have him meet Harry in this chapter, but I got too caught up in the minutia of the other meetings...sorry this is moving a bit slowly, I've a tendency to get stuck describing details. Review please!

-The "earmuffs on the cookie" thing is a reference to Avenue Q ("Fantasies come true")

-The sleepy mole and kibble aren't mine either...I forget if it's canon or if I read it somewhere in another fanfiction.

-The mole I know for sure I read in fanfiction; if anyone can think of a Snape-centric fic where he catches a first-year Slytherin picking Hagrid's pockets and makes him return the things, including the sleepy mole...I know it was a good fic, I just can't remember what it was called, so if anyone knows what I'm talking about from such an obscure reference, please let me know.


	4. Chapter 3: Meet Harry Potter

If wishes were fishes...uh...I'd have a lot of fish? I still don't own Harry Potter. Note that flashbacks and internal thoughts are italicized and labeled as such.

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Draco went to the door. "Please be good," he muttered under his breath, crossing his fingers. This was his last chance to find a decent roommate; otherwise, he would have to take his chances with Wood. He opened the door and his jaw dropped.

"Harry Potter!"

--

Draco gaped at the young man standing in his doorway. Not even Hagrid's appearance had thrown him so completely. He became vaguely aware that his mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut, offering a hand. "Draco Malfoy, pleased to meet you again, Po—Harry."

A slender hand gripped his own as bemused green eyes met grey. "Nice to meet you too, Draco." A pause. "Er...may I come in?"

Realizing that he was still blocking the entrance, Draco started. "Oh! Oh, of course, do come in," he said quickly, automatically falling back on the standard courtesies his mother had drilled into him. Stepping back to allow Potty—no, _Harry_—in, Draco chided himself for getting flustered. Malfoys did not get flustered.

"Have a seat, please, and help yourself," he invited, gesturing to the couch and bowl of chips. "I must say, I'm surprised to see you here. How are you?"

Harry shrugged, seating himself on the couch and ignoring the food. "I've been worse." He looked at Draco more closely (Draco noted that he was still wearing glasses, though with stylish grey frames instead of the round, horn-rimmed glasses he'd worn as a child). "You said 'pleased to meet you _again_'...have we met before?"

Once again, Draco found himself at a loss for words. He didn't remember??

--

**Flashback: 2nd Grade**

_ "You're pretty. Play with me," commanded the blonde boy imperiously, extending his hand to the tiny 7-year-old who was busy digging a hole in the sand box. The smaller boy turned towards the blonde, one sandy fist shoving aside the black bangs in his eyes to reveal a pair of bright green eyes. When the boy did nothing but stare, little Draco stamped his foot impatiently. "I said, play with me!"_

_ "Why should I?" _

_ "Because..." Draco scowled, taken aback. Nobody had ever asked such a thing before; they had all been happy to play with him whenever he asked. "Because I want you to!" _

_Green eyes studied him carefully, then clouded. "No." _

_Draco's eyes widened and he felt his lower lip start to tremble. "Why not?" he whined, tears starting in his eyes. _

_The other boy didn't even look at him as he continued digging. "Cuz I'm digging. Go 'way."_

_Furious, Draco stared at the other boy for a moment, then screamed in anger. He kicked the pile of excavated sand, knocking most of it back into the hole. "You're a big poophead, and I hate you forever!" With that, he marched away, fighting back tears. Behind him, the little boy sighed, contemplating his ruined work seriously before diligently starting over again._

_--_

**Flashback: 5th Grade**

_ "Look out, here comes Potty," sniggered Blaise, elbowing Draco and pointing at the skinny boy slinking into the cafeteria. "Guard your lunches everyone, Potty's here!"_

_Laughing and jeering, the 10-year-olds pretended to hunch protectively over their food. A few catcalls and jibes of "Welfare brat!" "Four eyes!" and "Potty stinks!" rang out. None of the kids actually knew what welfare was, but they'd heard one angry parent call him that after he'd been caught stealing food from the other kids' lunches, and the name had stuck. To make matters worse for him, Harry's filthy clothes and ridiculous round glasses would have made him an easy target even before Draco had publicly declared him an outcast 3 years ago. Though the name-calling and insults grew in volume, the boy ignored it all, clutching his worn lunchbox to his chest. As he neared Draco's table, Draco stood up and sneered._

_"Here Potty, I figured you might be hungry still so I saved you some dessert." Smirking, the blonde grabbed his half eaten brownie and threw it at Harry. _

_His action prompted a roar of laughter from the watching students, many of whom followed his example and began throwing parts of their own lunches. An apple core bounced off his head, somebody's pudding splattered against his glasses, and before the teachers could reach the rowdy boys, Harry was running out of the cafeteria, pelted by bits of food as he retreated. _

_--_

**Flashback: 6th Grade**

_ "Hey, where's Potty?"_

_ "Maybe he's sick."_

_ "Maybe he's dead."_

_ "Man I sure hope so," laughed Theo. "Don't you, Draco?"_

Draco sneered. "Yeah, he should do us a favor and croak already."

_Even as he said the words, some part of him felt a bit uneasy and he crossed his fingers under the desk. He didn't _really_ want the kid dead. Sure, he was mad that the little snot would never play with him, but even at 11, he knew his revenge far exceeded anything reasonable for such a petty grievance. He hadn't meant it to go on for so long, but he'd been so _mad_ at him, and by the time he calmed down, Potty-baiting had already been established too well to reverse. And tormenting the kid was just so easy, and he really was annoying sometimes..._

_"Class, if I may have your attention?" the teacher asked, standing at the front of the room. The boys found their seats, loud chatter dying down to whispered speculation. "I'm afraid Mr. Potter will no longer be attending classes with us. His guardians have transferred him to another school. Now, if you'll take out your math books please..."_

_A wad of paper landed on Draco's desk as the teacher droned on. Carefully, he swept it into his lap and uncrumpled it. "Good job getting rid of Potty—time to celebrate!" Blaise's neat script read. Underneath was a stick figure drawing of Harry (recognizable by the oversized glasses and messy hair) with X's for eyes, hanging from a gallows. Draco raised his eyes to meet Blaise, who winked at him and gave him a thumbs-up when the teacher wasn't looking. Swallowing hard, Draco returned the gesture, forcing a cocky grin on his face. _

_His nemesis was gone. He should be happy._

_So why did he feel like crying?_

_--_

**Flashback: 10th Grade**

_ "Mother, Father, I'm on the honor roll again," Draco called excitedly as he entered the mansion, report card in hand. "And Miss Vector says I'm top of my class!" Silence greeted his enthusiastic announcement, and he shrugged. Looked like his parents were in another wing of the building._

_ A maid hurried over to him. "They're in the parlor, Master Draco," she murmured, taking his jacket and bookbag from him. Distracted, he nodded to her and strode off, suddenly nervous. The parlor was where his father lectured him if he'd done something wrong, but he really couldn't recall doing anything that would warrant a lecture._

_ As it turned out, he was being lectured for what he hadn't done._

_ "Look at this," hissed his father, slapping that week's TIME magazine into his hands._

_ Confused, Draco glanced up at his mother for a moment before dropping his gaze to the article his father indicated. _No bloody way_, he thought, staring at the title picture. From the glossy pages of the magazine, Harry Potter stared back, underneath a bold headline: "The Boy Who Lived to Write: An Interview by Rita Skeeter." Mentally sneering at the title, he turned the page to find the article, revealing another picture of Harry. He scanned the article rapidly. _

_ "At first glance, Harry Potter appears to be just another teenager. However, this remarkable boy is already a successful author at the tender age of 15, having published several collections of short stories and poems and earning rave reviews from hard-to-please literary critics like Amelia Bones and Kingsley Shacklebolt..._

_When I arranged this interview, I worried that the rush of being a celebrity combined with the natural self-centeredness of youth would make Mr. Potter insufferably arrogant. Thus, it was to my great surprise and pleasure that I found a quiet, humble young man waiting for me when I arrived at Black Mansion, Mr. Potter's home where he lives with his godfather..._

_Potter's first publication, a collection of poems entitled "Through the Sandbox_" –_Draco lurched at the title, remembering the first time he met the boy—captured the attention of critics and literary connoisseurs worldwide shortly after it came out_...

_"Well?" asked his father, crossing his arms. "He's only 15, the same age as you! And he's already a published author. What about you, what have you done?"_

_ "Lucius, that's not fair," protested his mother, laying a hand on his shoulder. "With Black behind him, Potter could scribble something in crayon, and good marketing would turn it into a masterpiece. You can't do that in sciences—" She caught sight of Draco's report card and hastily changed the subject. "Oh Draco, you've got your report card! How did you do?" she asked, taking it from him._

_ "I made honor roll, and Miss Vector says I'm the top of my class," he replied, risking a glance at his father. While his mother cooed, Lucius remained unimpressed._

_ "As befits a Malfoy," he said stiffly, walking away. _

--

Draco had never forgotten Harry. Since then, he'd looked up and saved all articles about him that he could find, and both of his books were currently sitting on his bookshelf. And yet, it seemed, he had been too insignificant for Harry to even remember him. _But do you want him to remember you? _part of his brain asked. After all, this time it was Harry extending the hand of friendship (well, sort of—he was asking to be a flatmate, not exactly asking to be a friend, but it was close enough), and if he didn't remember Draco, maybe they could start over on a better foot.

He noticed that Harry was still studying his face and waiting for a response. "Oh! Er, never mind actually, it's not important." _Damnit, Draco, stop spacing out,_ he scolded himself. "I was just wondering why you wanted to share an apartment, I mean, I'm sure you could afford one of your own." Immediately after he said that, he cursed himself again. He seemed to have a bad case of foot-in-mouth syndrome today; he _wanted_ Harry as a flatmate, why in the world did he keep saying these things?

Harry looked at him a little strangely. "Well, from what I heard of your father, you could easily afford a better place of your own too, so why are you here?"

"Well...I just...It's none of your business, really," Draco said, a little too quickly_. _The words sounded snappish and cold even to his own ears.

Harry's expression, which had been faintly amused as he watched Draco stumble over his words, turned blank. "You know, I'm not sure we'd make good roommates, actually," he said coolly, standing up. "Thank you for your time—"

"No, wait!"

Harry stopped and looked at the panicky blonde. The blank expression was still there, but some of the previous amusement glinted in his eyes. "Yes?"

"I—that is—" The amusement was definitely back now, and even as Draco flushed with embarrassment, it gave him the courage to rush on. "Everything I say is just coming out wrong...I do want you as a flat mate, really. And I know I can afford to live on my own, but I just wanted to be normal, you know? Like I've been rich and I've had everything handed to me all my life, and I guess this isn't really very different, but I just wanted to try and be like everyone else for once..." Hearing a chuckle, he looked up and found Harry seated on the couch again, openly laughing at him. The sound brought a rueful grin to his lips, and he dropped his head into his hands. "I'm not making any sense, am I?" he asked.

A hand touched his shoulder, and he looked up again into warm green eyes. "I know exactly what you mean," Harry whispered. "That was my reason too." Straightening up again, he smiled at Draco. "I'll stay."

--

Author Notes:

Flashbacks within flashbacks! I'm ashamed of myself for doing it. In case anyone's confused about the timeline (and for my own reference since I'll probably mix myself up later): The most recent events occurred in the prologue, followed by the non-flashback-y chapter content. So we have prologue (Draco alone), loop back to when Draco rented the apartment, and the story will proceed until it catches up to the events of the prologue and then continue onwards from that point.

Thank you for those of you who reviewed/added me to your alert thingy, it's really very encouraging. While I don't write for the purpose of getting reviews, the only reason I post my writing online is for the reviews. Please let me know what you think!


	5. Bonus: The Boy Who Lived to Write

It's not a chapter update, this is just a bonus that I felt like writing. It's Rita Skeeter's complete article, along with some excerpts from Harry's book. Granted, I'm actually a pretty lousy poet, so let's just pretend the poems are moving and well written, shall we? Please review, let me know what you think. Next real chapter should be coming shortly. And seriously, does anyone know how to get this thing to retain indents? It's really bugging me.

* * *

"The Boy Who Lived To Write: An Interview by Rita Skeeter"

At first glance, Harry Potter appears to be just another teenager. However, this remarkable boy is already a successful author at the tender age of 15, having published several collections of short stories and poems earning rave reviews from hard-to-please literary critics like Amelia Bones and Kingsley Shacklebolt. When I spoke to them on the phone, both described young Mr. Potter as a "much-needed breath of fresh air" for the stalling poetry genre. "Potter might just be the impetus needed to make poetry popular again," Bones ventured, cautiously optimistic.

When I arranged this interview, I worried that the rush of being a celebrity combined with the natural self-centeredness of youth would make Mr. Potter insufferably arrogant. Thus, it was to my great surprise and pleasure that I found a quiet, humble young man waiting for me when I arrived at Black Mansion, Mr. Potter's home where he lives with his godfather, Sirius Black. Devastating green eyes, coupled with a mop of unruly black hair and well-toned muscles make Harry Potter a real heartbreaker—even your faithful reporter found her heart beating a tiny bit faster upon seeing him. Interestingly enough, Mr. Potter admitted that he had never had a girlfriend and would not reveal any potential love interests.

Potter's first publication (see insert, pg. 6, for his 2 most acclaimed pieces), a collection of poems entitled "Through the Sandbox" captured the attention of critics and literary connoisseurs worldwide shortly after it came out. Readers everywhere marveled at his skillful juxtaposition of childish innocence and adult wisdom. It is this same talent that makes his work accessible to all ages and makes him the star of the poetry community. During the course of our interview, Mr. Potter revealed that the title of his debut publication (also the title of one of the poems contained within it) stems from a particular childhood pastime.

"One of the older boys once told me that if I dug deep enough, I'd dig a hole straight through to China," reminisced Potter, lips quirking into a small smile. "He was pulling my leg, but I didn't know that at the time, so I put everything into digging that hole...I gave up playing with the other kids even though I really wanted to play with them, just so I could dig."

Mr. Potter seemed uncomfortable when I asked why he had been so focused on this Herculean task, shrugging his shoulders and saying that he'd thought it "would be cool." However, it seems that our young author's determination may have stemmed from another source. Cho Chang, a close personal friend of Mr. Potter, confided to me that the teen had a "really horrible childhood" as Potter was constantly tormented on the playground. According to Ms. Chang, his home life offered no respite since his relatives "abused him horrifically, that's why he was always so skinny as a little kid." When questioned, Mr. Potter blushed charmingly and refused to comment, perhaps ashamed of baring such emotional scars...

"His cousin once pushed him down a flight of stairs when Potter was 10," commented Colin Creevey, a younger student who looks up to Mr. Potter. "It was really scary...When I visited him in the hospital, he looked like he was dying, but he promised me that he would live because he had to finish writing a story he was working on."

A hospital worker who wished to remain anonymous revealed that Mr. Potter's injuries were indeed life threatening. Fortunately for him and for his adoring public today, he persevered bravely and was adopted by his godfather upon his recovery. Indeed, Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived to Write, overcoming all manner of adversity to fulfill his greatest passion. This reporter is truly honored to have met such an inspiring young man.

* * *

Insert:

**"Through the Sandbox"**

The shovel dips-

green, like new grass and lime kool-aid.

It bites into the sand, scooping

digging, always digging

The hole grows-

deeper, darker

The sand was white, but now it's

heavy, wet,

Dark.

But the shovel dips again-

flashes, like minnows in the shallows

digging, always digging.

Because through the sandbox

lies hope.

--

**"Void"**

There is a time when the world disappears—

when you are the only thing left,

Hanging in limbo until softly,

slowly,

the rest of the world fills itself in again.

And then, when you breathe a sigh of relief

and close your eyes,

it is your turn. You disappear.

And the world continues without you.


	6. Chapter 4: Harry Potter Moves In

"Potter, that _thing_ is not coming into my apartment!"

"It's _our_ apartment, _Malfoy_, and I'll keep whatever I like!"

Draco stared at the small terrarium with horrified revulsion. As Harry glared back, the top slipped and fell onto the carpet. Draco's nostrils flared as a faint whiff of whatever was in the tank reached him, strengthening his belief that his new flatmate was mad. No way was he having something in the apartment that smelled like Hagrid!

"It _reeks_, Po—Harry!"

"Well so do you!" Harry shot back.

"Oh yeah? Well—" Draco launched back the first retort he thought of. "—so does your mom!" He blushed as the juvenile comeback left his mouth. _I haven't said something that lame since sixth grade! What the hell is wrong with me?_ To his surprise, Harry reddened angrily.

"I bet _your_ mom reeks even more!"

The two boys glared at each other until the terrarium emitted a loud croak, causing the blonde to shift the Malfoy Glare of Death™ to the offending item.

Draco's eyelid twitched.

Harry snickered.

The terrarium croaked again, and Harry burst out laughing. Draco managed to maintain his glare for a few more seconds before giving in to the hilarity of the situation and laughing with Harry. After they'd calmed down a bit, Draco voiced his protests again (albeit in a much less hostile manner).

"No really, Harry, I don't know if we're allowed to keep that here," he said, eyeing Harry's burden suspiciously. "The landlord said only fish."

Harry bent down and picked the top back up, replacing it on the terrarium (Draco noted thankfully that it hadn't left any smudges on the carpet). "It's ok, it's not actually mine. Neville—one of my friends—asked me to watch it for the next few days while he's away. He'll swing by and pick it up next week, I swear."

"Oh. Ok then." Draco took a cautious step closer to Harry and peered into the terrarium. "Er, it won't get out, will it?" he asked, nose still wrinkling at the smell.

"Nah, Trevor's way too lazy," Harry reassured him. "Besides, I'm not sure he could jump that high even if he wanted to."

Draco looked doubtful. "Frogs can jump pretty high though."

"Trevor's a toad, they're not so big on the jumping thing," Harry replied, watching Draco tap the side of the terrarium with a well-manicured nail. The blonde flung himself back with a shriek when the toad in question suddenly popped up out of a pile of bracken with another loud croak and lunged at the boy's finger. "Stop teasing him, he'll just keep bonking against the glass if you do that," he reprimanded, barely suppressing another snicker.

"Crap, that thing's huge," said Draco, flushing hotly when he realized Harry was trying not to laugh at him. "Bugger off, Potter, it just startled me."

He stepped away from the couch he'd retreated behind when Trevor made his appearance, trying to look nonchalant and failing miserably.

Harry started laughing again, undeterred by Draco's scowl.

Trevor croaked.

--

By the end of the day, a large pile of boxes, bags, suitcases, and miscellaneous things that Harry apparently hadn't had time to pack sat in Harry's room and in the living room. In the course of helping his roommate move in, Draco noticed a badminton racquet, a butterfly knife ("Aren't those illegal?" he asked curiously when he saw his roommate holding it. Harry mumbled something vague, then dazzled him with a display of really nifty knife tricks that completely distracted him from his original question), noise-canceling headphones, The Book of Bunny Suicides, and what was either a novelty straw or a bong (hopefully the former). Currently, Harry was sitting on the floor digging through another box and cursing as he tried to find his bedding and toiletry items.

"Aha!" the brunette exclaimed triumphantly, finally extracting a toothbrush and towel from the box he was rummaging through when Draco looked into his room. "I knew it was in here somewhere. Now to find my sheets..." He dived into a huge box, head and shoulders disappearing entirely into the mess within. Draco amused himself watching Potter (the part of him that was visible anyways, which was pretty much just his arse and legs) as the boy burrowed through books and articles of clothing, tossing random items over his shoulder haphazardly when they weren't what he was looking for. He opened his mouth, thinking to offer assistance or the loan of his extra sheets, but instead—

"Potter, how do you keep your arse so fit?"

Harry snapped back upright, whirling around and clamping his hands protectively over his buttocks, looking for all the world as if Draco had just tried to cop a feel. Only a great deal of self-control on Draco's part let the blonde fight down the blush threatening to rise past his collar. _Where the hell did that come from?_ he thought, absolutely mortified and struggling against the urge to disappear into the carpet. Instead, he forced himself to play it cool.

"Dude, that was so worth it just to see your face!" he snickered, congratulating himself on sounding almost as if he really had meant to say it as a joke all along. Harry relaxed and chuckled, though his face was still beet red. He threw a shirt at Draco.

"Prat!"

Draco caught it easily. "Ah ah, Potter, flinging your clothes at me?" When Harry increased his assault, he dodged back out of the room, ducking as a shoe bounced off the doorframe where his head had been (granted, it hadn't been thrown very hard). "Oi! I surrender, mate!" He poked his head back in cautiously, ready to withdraw if something came flying at him, but Harry had resumed his search for bedding so he stepped back in. "Harry, actually I was going to say you can borrow my extra sheets if you like, since it's getting kind of late."

"Really?" Harry looked a bit sheepish. "Thanks, Draco...I know I packed mine somewhere, but..." He spread his arms, gesturing to the mess surrounding him.

"It's not a problem, just wash them and give them back when you find yours," Draco shrugged, tossing the sheets to Harry, who automatically brought them up to his nose to sniff. "Oh gross, Potter, those are clean! Don't tell me you're one of those people who believe in the smell test."

"There's nothing wrong with the smell test," Harry replied defensively. He continued nuzzling the sheets. "These feel nice. Egyptian cotton?"

"Of course. 1200 thread count. Malfoys sleep on Egyptian cotton or silk, nothing else."

"I'll have to buy some for myself," Harry said, putting the sheets down on his bed. "Sirius always uses satin, I think he just likes it because it's shiny." Draco snorted.

"Your godfather sounds interesting," he observed. "Wasn't there some scandal a whiles back?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "There's _always_ some scandal, Sirius was the biggest playboy ever. Don't get me wrong, I love him to death. It's just more like living with a peer than a parent figure, you know?"

"I see." Draco actually couldn't imagine life without his very involved (his friends would say controlling) parents, but he tried to stick with a neutral response. There was a bit of an awkward silence before Harry broke it.

"Well, I'm going to hop in the shower now. Do I need to save some hot water for you, or are you a morning shower type of person?" he asked, gathering up his things.

Draco waved a hand, dismissing the concern. "I shower in the morning, so don't worry about it," he said. "Good night, Harry."

"Night, Draco."

After washing up, Draco went to bed. He stared up at the ceiling in the dark, listening to the shower running in the bathroom and Harry singing (he was amused to note that Harry's singing was even worse than his own, and he felt a brief flash of pity for the downstairs neighbor). Eventually, he fell asleep to his flatmate's enthusiastic rendition of "My heart will go on" and the soothing sound of running water.

--

Notes: Yes, the bunny suicide book is real in case you haven't run across it. It's by Andy Riley. I know that was kind of a crappy ending to a chapter, but I want to go to bed too. And I found the sleepy mole fic that I referenced in an earlier chapter...it's called The Birthday Present by excessivelyperky, and I highly recommend it. No slash, but it's well written. Also, I tried putting the indents in on the document manager preview/edit thing, but every time I hit save, they all disappear again!


	7. Chapter 5: Pizza

Draco stepped into the restaurant, arrogant Malfoy mask firmly in place. His cocky swagger belied the fact that he'd never actually been in such a casual restaurant before. Pleasant smells wafted past him and a small child sitting with her family in the corner was throwing a tantrum. About half of the booths and tables were filled, mostly with chattering young adults and a few middle-aged men. Waiters and waitresses hurried from one table to another carrying trays of food and drinks, bantering with the customers as they served them. He looked about for a maitre d' but didn't see one; fortunately, he saw Dean sitting next to the wall with another guy and hurried over to join them.

"Yo, Draco!" Dean greeted him as he sat down across from them. "This is Seamus, one of my buddies from high school."

Draco inclined his head, offering his hand as he sat down. "I'm Draco, nice to meet you, Seamus. Are you going to Hogwarts University too?"

"Of course, mate!" Seamus flashed him a grin. "I couldn't let Dean go off to college all by his widdle self—"

"Stuff it, Seamus," Dean said, smacking him good-naturedly. "So where's the roomie, Drake? Is it Hagrid?" he teased, snickering at Draco's appalled expression.

"He'll be along in a bit, he was toad-sitting for his friend so he has to drop it off before coming," answered Draco. The other two boys looked at him blankly for a moment, then burst into snickers.

"Toad-sitting??" snorted Seamus, pounding Dean's back when the black boy choked on his drink. Draco rolled his eyes, chuckling slightly.

"Yes, toad-sitting. Believe me, I thought the same thing." He shuddered. "The thing is freaking huge, I'm so glad it's out of the apartment."

"Aww, is Drakie-poo afraid of the widdle toady?" cackled Seamus in a horrible falsetto.

"Wait, are you talking about Trevor?" asked Dean, finally recovered enough to speak.

Draco nodded, shooting a glare at Seamus, who was still fluttering his eyelashes and laughing. "Yes! You know how big that creature is, back me up here!"

"Oh come on, it's a toad," scoffed Seamus. "How big can it be, like two, three inches?"

Dean shook his head, holding out his hand. "Nose to arse, it's like longer than my hand, Seamus. That's not counting its legs."

The Irish boy paled. Dean's hands, while not enormous, were hardly dainty. "No way."

"Would I lie to you?" questioned Dean, pretending to be hurt. They collapsed into helpless laughter again. A pretty waitress approached their table, and Draco frowned at his companions, concerned that they were going to be asked to leave.

"Hi, my name is Lavender Brown and I'll be your server this evening," she said, smiling brightly at the three as she placed menus in front of them. "Can I get you guys something to drink?"

Seeing that Seamus and Dean were still trying (and failing miserably) to regain enough coherency to answer her, Draco took it upon himself to order for the three of them.

"I think Sprite for all of us, and a pitcher of water in case we have to break these two idiots up," he requested.

Lavender giggled, her eyes lingering a bit on Seamus before she walked away. Her interest did not go unnoticed; Seamus blushed bright red as Dean laughed at him. "Oooh, I think she fancies you, mate!"

Draco kept his own amusement in check, a habit born of years of etiquette training. He glanced around the restaurant, concerned that their spirited hilarity might draw complaints from other patrons or the restaurant management; to his surprise, nobody so much as raised an eyebrow. A burst of excited conversation came from the table across them, snatches of song reached his ears as a beaming waitress carried a lit birthday cake to another table, and an infant began wailing, its face turning bright red with its efforts. Noisy good cheer and honest emotions were in abundance, a stark contrast to the stiff formal dinners he was used to. Draco smiled. _This_ was the real reason he'd been so excited about college.

Dean and Seamus were now arm wrestling for some bizarre reason, each trying to cheat outrageously as they jockeyed for position on the wooden table. Draco rescued the pitcher of water just before Seamus's elbow knocked it over; pouring himself a drink, he let himself relax and laugh along with the others as he egged Dean on.

"So what've I missed?"

The voice came from behind him, and the blonde turned to see Harry slipping into the seat next to him with a broad grin on his face, green eyes dancing mischievously. Across the table, Seamus gave a triumphant shout as he succeeded in slamming Dean's hand down onto the table (though only because he'd gained an element of surprise by throwing a handful of ice cubes in the black boy's face while simultaneously kicking him hard in the shins). Finished, both turned expectantly towards Draco's side of the table to meet his roommate.

While Dean's expression was the same open, friendly smile he'd greeted Draco with, Seamus's expression quickly changed from polite welcome to awed shock when he saw Harry.

"Blimey! You're—You're Harry Potter!" he exclaimed, openly staring at the brunette, who blushed and looked down uncomfortably. Draco scowled at Seamus and kicked him, snapping the teen out of his stunned astonishment.

Meanwhile, Dean watched the whole scene rather nonplussed. "Seamus, you're supposed to tell him _your_ name when you introduce yourself, not his," he pointed out mildly, earning a snicker from Draco and Harry (and an embarrassed retort from Seamus). He held a hand out to Harry. "I'm Dean Thomas, it's nice to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you too," Harry responded automatically.

Draco frowned. Though he'd only been living with his flatmate for a few days now, he could already tell when the brunette's smile was real and when it was just polite. The genuine enjoyment he'd seen in the smaller boy's face just minutes ago had been replaced with mild irritation and resignation that grew worse as Seamus stared at him avidly, babbling away as he introduced himself. Despite having gotten along well with the Irish boy when they'd first met, Draco felt an increasing urge to smack Seamus when he saw Harry looking more and more uncomfortable.

Fortunately for them all, Dean once again broke the tension. "I gather from this idiot's reaction—" Here, he paused to smack Seamus (Draco cheered mentally) before continuing, "that I should probably know who you are? Please don't be offended, I'm horribly out of touch with the news unless it's soccer..."

Harry laughed, eyes lighting up in real pleasure even as he deflected the question. "Oh, it's nothing important really. What team do you support, then? My friend Ron is mad about the Lions, I don't really know anything about them though."

"Ron Weasley, you mean?" asked Draco, seeing Seamus open his mouth to speak (no doubt intending to bring the focus back on Harry, which Draco did _not _want, considering how uncomfortable the brunette seemed whenever his fame was being discussed).

"You remember him!" Harry grinned happily at Draco. "He was the one who told me you had a room up for rent. Warned me you were a bit snobby, but I decided to see for myself."

Draco stiffened. "Snobby? That uncouth, speckled weasel—"

"He's my _friend_, Draco," snapped Harry, glaring at Draco, who returned it with a glare of his own. Seamus watched, aghast at Draco's hostility.

"Draco! He's _Harry Potter_—"

"Shut up, Seamus!" snarled both Draco and Harry.

"All right boys, let's all play nice now," soothed Dean. "Why do I always end up peacemaker anyways? Right then, Seamus—we get it, he's famous. But he's also just Draco's roommate, and you're making him really uncomfortable acting like a rabid fangirl."

Seamus looked sheepish. "Sorry, Harry, I just got a bit too excited," he apologized. "I swear, I can act like a normal person though!"

"No problem," said Harry, looking quite relieved. Draco smirked at Seamus, muttering "fangirl" as he pretended to cough. He felt slightly hypocritical when he remembered that while Seamus might have gone speechless over Harry, Draco had reacted quite similarly during their first meeting. _Not to mention you were the one who complimented his ass,_ his conscience reminded him (Draco ignored _that_. After all, he was straight. He'd merely been inquiring after Potter's workout regime, not ogling his rear).

"Draco—" Dean turned to the blonde. "I ran into Ron on campus too, and it's not hard to see how he might think you were snobby even if you weren't, since he's really not that refined." Draco snorted in agreement, and Dean raised a hand to stop Harry's protest. "Harry, I'm just telling the truth about his manners, not making a character judgment. I know for a fact that Draco actually thought he was a pretty decent guy to know, just not to live with. So, are we all ok now?"

Draco smirked, and even Harry and Seamus stopped pouting to laugh. "Yes, Mum," they chorused, making Dean blush.

"Not my fault the three of you are about as mature as a bunch of toddlers," he muttered, studying his menu far more closely than it warranted.

"Ready to order yet?" asked Lavender, arriving at their table again. She batted her eyelashes at Seamus, who promptly became incoherent again and could only stutter and blush furiously. Finally, after a lengthy discussion (Harry insisted that they have mushroom and sausage on at least one, Dean wanted anchovies and no mushrooms, Draco wanted shrimp and pineapple, and Seamus recovered from his Lavender-induced daze long enough to inform them that he was allergic to shrimp and didn't eat any meat except chicken) they decided on several large pizzas with various toppings. Lavender gathered the menus back up—Harry watched Seamus wide-eyed, and even Draco and Dean were a little concerned with the impressive shade of red the Irish boy's face turned, particularly when Lavender gave him an eyeful of cleavage as she leaned over to collect his menu—and headed to the kitchen with their order. As the boys waited for their food, the talk turned to the impending classes.

"So Harry, what's your major?" asked Dean, fiddling with his straw.

"I haven't really decided yet," Harry answered hesitantly, apparently embarrassed. "Probably English, but maybe psychology too."

Dean shrugged. "No big deal, I haven't decided for sure either. I'm thinking bio, but I don't know if I want to go pre-med or not."

"If you do go pre-med, please promise me not to become like Terry Boot," begged Draco. "He was one of the people who wanted your room," he added, looking at Harry. "Seriously, he was so uptight, I thought my mother had found a way to disguise herself or something and was trying to sneak into my flat." The boys snickered.

"What's your major, Draco?" Seamus asked. "Going to be an English major like Harry? That'd be cool if you guys were in the same classes, wouldn't it?"

"No, if they were in the same classes _and_ had to live together, they'd probably want to kill each other before we reached Thanksgiving," commented Dean.

Draco laughed. "True, true," he conceded. "But God no, I would never major in English, no offense Harry."

"None taken," the other responded mildly, so Draco continued, oblivious to the brief flash of hurt that had crossed Harry's face.

"Besides the fact that my dad would probably kill me, it's just not really my thing. I'm in the engineering school."

"Really? What type of engineering?" asked Seamus. "My dad was an EE major, he says it was really hard."

"I was never really into the electrical stuff. I'm a chemical engineering major," Draco said, preening a little when everyone oohed at that and looked slightly impressed. The engineering school at Hogwarts had a reputation for being the toughest school in the university, and the chemical engineering department was especially small (but contained several award-winning professors of national repute) because so few students dared that major.

"Have fun not sleeping at all, mate," chuckled Dean. "But have no fear, Seamus here will sleep extra for you."

"Haha yeah," agreed Seamus. "I'm a history major," he clarified for Harry and Draco, who had looked confused by Dean's comment. "As freshmen, we history majors sleep before class, in class, and after class. They should call it History with a minor in Sleep."

"Do you not like history?" asked Harry, curiously.

"Yeah, why would you major in history if it bored you so much?" Draco added. Seamus laughed.

"I actually really like history," he admitted. "And it's usually not boring. But the intro classes are taught by Professor Binns, and rumor has it that nobody can stay awake in his lectures."

"Heads up, Seamus, Lavender's coming," snickered Dean, nudging the boy in question.

"What? Where?" Seamus sat up straight, then thought better of it and attempted to look casual by leaning on his elbow, promptly knocking over his drink. "Gah!"

"Here you are, boys," announced Lavender cheerfully, showing up at the table with several large pizzas. "Oh!" she exclaimed, spotting Seamus as he tried to mop up the growing puddle of Sprite. "I've got some napkins, here—"

After some maneuvering to make room for the food and Lavender's assistance in cleaning up the spilled soda (Draco thought Seamus was going to faint when she began blotting his pants with a napkin), the boys fell upon the pizza.

For once, Draco let his manners slide and left the silverware unused. He had initially picked up his knife and fork, only to have Harry confiscate them while Dean ordered him to "just eat pizza like a normal person, Drake!" He was hesitant at first when he picked up a slice (shivering slightly at the grease dripping down his fingers), but the delighted approval he saw in Harry's eyes drove away all thoughts of what his parents and friends back home would say if they saw him being so uncouth, and he happily joined the others in gobbling up dripping slices of pizza with their bare hands.

--

Ok...I'm really unhappy with how this chapter turned out, so I may rewrite it or eliminate it entirely later. Please review—your thoughts and critiques are always welcome but would be especially helpful for this chapter. Did you like it? Hate it? I don't know why all the extraneous unnecessary detail keeps creeping into my chapters; originally I meant to just establish their majors and a pattern of interaction, but it sort of ran away and became bloated with filler-esque material. Gah. Thanks so much for the people who have reviewed/added me to favs/alerts! It's very encouraging.


	8. Chapter 6: Classes

Still don't own it.

--

"Welcome to Organic Chemistry. Let me establish now that there will be no foolishness in this class," Snape intoned, pacing back and forth in front of the students. Draco smirked at the professor's blatant intimidation tactics, which were working on a surprisingly large portion of the class. "This is not some silly liberal arts course where you can _bullshit_ your way through an assignment. Those of you who work hard will be rewarded. Those of you who think you can half-ass this course..." He smiled grimly, and several of the more timid students cowered. "You are sorely mistaken." He suddenly whirled around and snatched up the attendance roster, coat flaring out dramatically. "Longbottom!" he barked, looking up from the paper to scan the lecture hall.

"H-h-here, sir," quavered a pudgy boy sitting in the middle of the room. He shrank into his seat as Snape glared at him.

"Which cyclohexane conformation is the least stable, Mr. Longbottom?" asked the professor. Neville trembled visibly, staring back in panic.

"I d-d-don't know, sir," he whispered.

Snape sneered. "Pathetic, Longbottom." He directed his gaze to an eagerly waving hand in the front row. "Yes, Miss...?"

"Granger, sir, Hermione Granger," the girl announced. "The half-chair is the least stable cyclohexane conformation."

"Correct. Mr. Malfoy, what should I use if I wish to prepare a _cis_-alkene from disubstituted alkynes?"

"Lindlar's catalyst, sir," answered Draco confidently, ignoring Hermione Granger's hand waving. After all, Snape had tutored him in the subject all summer.

"And how is Lindlar's catalyst prepared?" Snape questioned further, his face impassive. Draco knew his godfather well though, and could tell that he was pleased. "Miss Granger, please put your hand down, I believe I was addressing Mr. Malfoy."

"Metallic paladium deposited on calcium carbonate, conditioned with..." Draco thought for a moment, visualizing the textbook. "Quinoline and lead acetate."

"Excellent," Snape complimented. "Mr. Thomas, what should I use if I wish to make _trans_-alkenes instead?"

"Um...dissolving metal reduction?" Dean guessed, looking slightly panicked when Snape raised an eyebrow.

"That is the name of the reaction, Mr. Thomas. What does it consist of?"

"Metallic lithium or sodium and...ammonia?"

"Barely adequate, Mr. Thomas," Snape scowled when he saw Hermione once again had her hand in the air and addressed the class. "One would use metallic sodium or lithium in ammonia as Mr. Thomas said; you can also use ethylamine instead of ammonia. Specifically, the reaction takes place in solution at low temperatures, around negative 78°C." He paused before snapping, "Well? What are you waiting for? Take notes!"

Amidst the flurry of activity as students dug out notebooks and pens and began jotting down his words, Snape strode back to the podium at the front of the room. "I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is chemistry. However, for those select few who possess the predisposition—" Draco straightened with pride as Snape's gaze fell on him, "—I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses." The professor began prowling through the lecture hall. "I can tell you how to compound fame, synthesize glory, and even put a stopper in death."

Draco stifled a chuckle at Snape's melodramatic statement and the awed expressions it elicited from his students. As he followed the others in copying down the notes that the professor was now scrawling across the board, he made a mental note to ask for some stoppered death at some later point. Or perhaps he could ask him to synthesize a batch of glory for him? His godfather's introductory speeches got more and more ridiculous each year in his quest to intimidate his students.

--

"Man, that was intense!" breathed Dean, throwing himself into the chair across from Draco. Organic Chemistry ended right before noon, and since both had an hour before their next classes, they had wandered into the Hogwarts dining hall for lunch.

Draco laughed. "Nah, Sev is a good prof as long as you don't slack off. That was just scare tactics." He studied his chicken, then meticulously scraped off all traces of greenery and the mysterious white sauce drowning it.

"Sev??" Dean questioned. Unlike Draco, who was still prodding his food, he happily bit into a burger with no hesitation.

"He's my godfather, he tutored me in chem last summer." Draco grinned, taking a tentative bite of the chicken. Finding it acceptable, he began eating a bit more enthusiastically.

"That is so unfair!" griped Dean. "So not only do you have an advantage on the subject material, but also you already know the prof!"

"You're right about the subject material bit," Draco conceded. "But I bet you anything a lot of the students have also been tutored in it. And I mean, there was nothing stopping you from buying the book beforehand and studying it. That Granger girl, for one, I bet she's read the whole book."

"Yeah, that was a little annoying," Dean agreed. He was impressed with the breadth of the girl's knowledge, but still—she didn't _have_ to be such a show off and try to answer every question! "I bet she's going to throw the whole curve off," he grumbled. Draco snorted.

"Professor Snape doesn't grade on a curve," he informed Dean. "Apparently he used to get in a lot of trouble with the administration, since only like 3 of his students passed. He's still not using a curve, but he's toned down his tests a bit."

Dean groaned. "Great, just great. Well at least you don't have to worry, he'll probably go easy on you, what with you being his godson and all."

"I wish," Draco scoffed. "He'll be even harder on me since he taught me himself; he'll expect me to know everything. You've got ketchup on your chin," he added, smirking at Dean who scrubbed at his face with a napkin.

"Draco Malfoy!" someone bellowed from behind the blonde, who twitched at being hailed so loudly and rudely. He turned and saw Ron Weasley striding towards them, Hermione Granger in tow.

"Granger, Weasley," he greeted coolly. "Must you shout at me from across the room?"

Unbothered by Draco's disdain, Ron plopped down at their table. "Get off your high horse, Malfoy," he retorted. "This is Hermione, by the ways," he added as the girl seated herself. "I didn't know you knew Draco," he said to her, looking slightly jealous.

Hermione just looked confused. "I've never met him before, I don't think," she answered, giving Draco a questioning glance.

"We're all in the same o. chem class, so we saw her just now," explained Dean, dispelling Ron's jealousy and Hermione's confusion. "So what do you think of Snape?"

"Hah, you guys have Snape?" exclaimed Ron, looking revolted. "Fred and George told me he was a right git, I don't envy you."

Draco glared at the redhead, who seemed insistent on grating against his every nerve today. "He's a great professor, he just has no tolerance for imbeciles," he drawled. "Small wonder your brothers didn't like him, if their intelligence is anything like yours."

"Now see here, Malfoy—" Ron began, flushing angrily. Hermione and Dean exchanged a look, then hurriedly interrupted the two before a fight could begin.

"Ron, you can't just go off and insult a professor like that, especially not based on hearsay," Hermione scolded. "Besides, Fred and George probably tried to play pranks in his class, it's not really fair to condemn Professor Snape because he wouldn't let them get away with something they weren't supposed to be doing in the first place."

At the same time, Dean was talking to Draco. "I'm not saying Weasley wasn't being an idiot especially when he doesn't even know Snape, Drake, but that was a bit excessive on your part. You should at least try to get along with him, for your roommate's sake at least."

Looking properly chastened, Ron apologized to Draco under Hermione's strict glare. "Sorry, mate, I guess I shouldn't just go by what Fred and George say, they're not exactly model students." Draco was tempted to continue sneering at Ron, but a sharp elbow in his side from Dean, along with the thought of dealing with an irate Harry made him relent.

"I guess I overreacted a bit since he's my godfather, and he's done a lot for me," he admitted begrudgingly. Though he didn't actually apologize for insulting the intelligence of Ron and his brothers (as far as he was concerned, Ron really was an idiot, albeit mostly harmless), the redhead seemed to accept that as an apology.

"Professor Snape is your godfather?" asked Hermione, curious. When Draco nodded, she looked envious. "You're so lucky! Do you get to work in his labs? I couldn't believe it when they awarded him with a Nobel Prize last summer; nobody so young has ever gotten one before in chemistry. I'm really excited to have him as a professor. Are you going to his office hours this week?"

"I might drop in, just to say hi," Draco answered. "A word of advice though," he added, looking at Hermione and Dean. "Go to his office hours if you have legitimate questions that you don't know the answers to, even after looking in the book and asking the TA. Don't go if you're just trying to suck up." Here, he gave a particularly pointed look at Hermione, who blushed and looked indignant. "He will know, and he will not appreciate it, and then he'll probably make your life hell in class. I know some professors like talking about themselves, but that's not going to work with Sev—I mean, Snape. He'll just see it as a waste of time. If you're genuinely interested in his work, read his publications and articles and try to figure it out on your own before you ask him about it."

Dean groaned. "We're doomed, aren't we?" At Draco and Hermione's blank looks, he sighed. "Ok, _I'm_ doomed. You two, the godson and the walking brain, will be just fine." While Hermione was trying to decide whether she should be flattered or insulted, Draco changed the subject.

"So, Weasley, what's your major?" he asked, proud of himself for being civil and not cringing when Ron answered through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"History." He swallowed and continued, a bit more clearly. "I'm minoring in sociology, which is why I have a few overlapping classes with Harry."

"Do you know Seamus?" asked Dean.

Ron nodded, his mouth full again. "We ran into him at the bookstore last week," he answered.

"What about you, Dean, what's your major?" asked Hermione. "I know Draco is chem e, Harry told us."

"Biology, maybe pre-med, I haven't decided."

Hermione beamed. "Oh! I'm pre-med, I'm a bio major too. We'll probably have a lot of classes together then, are you in McGonagall's bio lecture, the one o'clock one? That's the one I'm in."

"Yeah, I'm headed there after lunch," Dean answered. Seeing Ron getting jealous again, he added, "Relax, Ron, I'm not going to steal your girlfriend."

Ron turned red, muttering that she wasn't his girlfriend. Draco just watched, amused. Judging by Hermione's glare, Ron wasn't doing such a good job wooing her (and it was fairly obvious that he liked her). He took pity on him and cut off Ron's sputtering.

"Do you have more classes today, Wea—Ron?" he asked, distracting Hermione from her death glare.

"Haha, nope! I'm all done for the day," Ron crowed, leaning back. "Mondays are good days for me, I only have an hour of class."

"Ron, you really should use some of your free time to study and do your homework," nagged Hermione; apparently, this was a somewhat regular occurrence, since Ron reassured her (unconvincingly and apparently automatically) that he would.

"Mondays are hellish for me," Dean complained. "Class from 8 in the morning to 5 at night, with just an hour for lunch. I guess I shouldn't complain though, Draco's probably going to be here til 9 at night."

"8 actually," corrected Draco. "Though hopefully sooner than that, if lab doesn't take too long tonight."

"You chem e people are insane," grumbled Ron good-naturedly, shaking his head in disgust. "Well, it's about that time of day, folks," he commented, pushing back his chair. Noticing that it was quarter of one, Draco and the others followed suit. "'Mione, I'll walk you to class since I'm headed that ways anyhow," Ron offered, scooping up her books. "It was nice having lunch with you, Draco, try not to go crazy!" After saying their goodbyes, the three headed off to their respective classes.

--

Most of Snape's speech is from the book/movie, with a few changes to make it fit chemistry better. All the chemistry stuff should be accurate, if it isn't, feel free to correct me. I don't really know what the point of this chapter was, aside from introducing Ron and Hermione and their majors...Sorry for the delay in uploading this, I got a bit distracted and couldn't really think of what to write. Thank you, everyone who reviewed! Your input means a lot to me. Please let me know how you liked this chapter! Should I stop with these detailed scenes and skip forwards a bit more (ie is the story going to slowly)?


	9. Chapter 7: If you were gay

I still don't own Harry Potter.

--

Draco paused outside his door, rummaging through his pockets for his keys. Even through the door, he could hear the shower running and Harry singing. Swearing softly under his breath, he shifted his books to his left arm and jammed his hand into the right pocket of his trousers. To his relief, his questing fingers brushed against the warmed metal of his keys; he pulled them out and let himself into the apartment.

"Some day, weeeee'll find it...the rainbow...connection! The lovers, the dreamers, aaaaaaand...MEEEEEEE!" Harry warbled, doing a passable imitation of Kermit the Frog (that is, if Kermit had been caught in an Indiana Jones-style death trap and was slowly being crushed to death).

Draco dropped his things onto the floor with a loud thump, which Harry evidently heard, since there was a startled yelp from the bathroom. The shower turned off abruptly and the door creaked open. From his vantage point on the couch, Draco saw the brunette's shadow as he cautiously approached the living room. Still dripping from his shower, Harry popped his head into the room warily, relaxing when he saw Draco.

"Bloody hell, Draco, you scared the crap out of me," he complained, stepping fully into view. "I thought somebody was breaking in or something."

Draco didn't answer, too busy staring at his roommate. In his haste to investigate the potential burglar, Harry hadn't bothered drying off; little rivulets of water trickled from his hair down his body, making their way into the carpet and the barely adequate towel he had wrapped around his waist. His glasses were partly steamed up and beaded with condensation; one hand held the towel in place while the other clutched his cell phone, apparently cued up to the campus emergency number. Hazily, Draco noticed that Harry was in fact hairy, or at least hairier than himself. A sparse patch of curly black hair nestled on his chest, a line of it leading down to his navel, where it spread again and disappeared beneath the towel. He was surprised to note that the hair covered a body that was surprisingly muscular and fit, without the look of softness that hung about the blonde's own belly. While Draco's slimness was the result of good genes and a fast metabolism, Harry had the wiry, lean build of an athlete. Automatically, Draco allowed his gaze to skim over the towel and follow the long line of Harry's legs down, past a pair of knobbly knees offset on top and bottom by strong thighs and calves, to his roommate's altogether unremarkable feet (perhaps the only part of him that was unremarkable, Draco thought).

The toes on said feet were curled into the carpet, where a damp patch was steadily growing. With an effort, Draco tore his eyes away from his roommate, reaching for one of the books he'd discarded earlier.

"You're dripping on the carpet, Potter," he remarked with feigned boredom. Harry looked down at his feet and grimaced. With a shrug, he took a step towards Draco.

"Drake, are you all right? You were completely spaced out there for a moment," he said, looking puzzled. Absentmindedly, he let go of the towel to push his glasses up; the towel slipped another inch and Draco stared for a moment before he forced his attention back to the textbook he was holding.

"Fine, I'm fine," he muttered, desperately trying not to look up. "Just a little tired, I've had classes all day. I think I'll go to bed soon."

"Ok, if you're sure," Harry agreed, turning away to head back to the bathroom. Draco cursed himself for looking up when he (once again) found himself contemplating Potter's bum.

"Do you do sports?" he blurted, transfixed by the flex of muscle as the other boy began walking. Harry stopped dead in his tracks, and Draco cursed himself again. What was it about Potter's arse that made his mouth speak before consulting his brain?

"Um," said Harry, peering suspiciously at Draco. "I'm a black belt in karate, and I still train every week. Why do you ask?"

"I was wondering how you kept your arse so fit," Draco said without thinking. His eyes and Harry's widened comically when they realized what he'd just said. Harry squawked indignantly and dove out of the room, leaving Draco with a vague sense of déjà vu.

"Prat, what is it with you and my arse!" shrieked the brunette, just before the bathroom door slammed shut. Draco dropped his head into his hands with a frustrated sigh. _I wouldn't mind knowing the answer to that myself,_ he thought ruefully.

Looking at the textbook in his lap, he realized that he'd been holding it upside down.

--

"Draco, hurry up!"

Draco frowned at his reflection in the steamed-up mirror, carefully examining his chin. It looked mostly normal, but when he peered closer, there was a slight, barely perceptible redness. Running his fingers over it, he found a slightly raised area. _It can't be_, he thought in disbelief, poking at the spot again. It looked like the beginnings of a zit, but he'd never gotten a pimple in his entire life. Leaning in close to the mirror again, he tilted his head to side to view it from another angle.

"DRACO!"

"All right, don't get your knickers in a twist!" he grumbled, giving up on his reflection and the maybe-zit. Wrapping his towel more firmly around his waist, he opened the door to reveal a fully dressed and very annoyed Harry. He felt slightly awkward, remembering the previous night's conversation when their attire had been reversed; fortunately, Harry seemed to have forgotten all about it.

"Finally! If I'm late to class, I'm blaming you, Malfoy!" With that, the brunette pushed into the bathroom past Draco.

Twenty minutes later, Harry was once again waiting impatiently for the blonde, this time outside of his room. "Draco, for fuck's sake, hurry up or I'm not going to wait for you!"

"No need to be crude, Potter," retorted Draco, surveying himself in the full-length mirror in his room. He popped the collar on his polo shirt and looked at himself. _Nope, I look like a douche. _Flattening it back down again, he frowned at the result. Dissatisfied with both looks, he changed into a t-shirt and fixed his hair again. _Perfect_, he thought, smirking at himself.

"Malfoy..."

Draco grabbed his bag and opened the door, posturing in the doorway for a moment. "Patience, my dear Harry." He gestured to himself smugly. "You can't rush perfection."

Harry stared at him. "It took you half an hour to put on a t-shirt and jeans?" he asked incredulously. When Draco started to answer, he cut him off. "Never mind, I don't want to know. Let's go."

As they walked to campus, Draco noticed Harry sneaking sidelong glances at him and opening his mouth as if to say something before changing his mind. The first time it happened, he assumed he was just imagining things; after the fifth time though, he had had enough.

"Harry, what is it?" he asked. Feeling slightly self-conscious, he looked around for a reflective surface. "Is there something on my face?"

"Uh, no, you're fine," muttered Harry, still studying him. Not taking his word for it, Draco paused in front of the tinted windows of a van and checked himself out. Seeing only his usual dashing self, he shrugged.

"Can't take your eyes off of my gorgeousness, Potter?" He smirked.

"No...um..." Harry trailed off. Seeing Draco's increasingly annoyed expression, he apparently screwed up his courage and asked, "Draco, are you gay?"

"Am I—what? No! No, no," Draco spluttered, attempting to regain his composure. "Potter, I'm not gay."

"Oh." Harry studiously kept his gaze on the pavement, and they walked in silence for a few seconds.

"I'm not gay. I love women," Draco said, when Harry didn't comment further.

"Ok."

"Really, Potter. I love women. I love shagging women."

"Uh huh."

"I dream about women. I ogle women. I'm not interested in men."

"Ok, I believe you."

"Good. You should," Draco huffed.

"Yes."

"I'm perfectly straight, Potter."

"Ok. But Draco?"

"What, Potter?"

"I wouldn't care if you _were_ gay."

"Harry, I'm not gay!"

"I know, I know. But if you were, I'll still be friends with you."

"I. Am. Straight."

"I know. I just meant you can feel free to be yourself around me. I'm here for you if you ever need to talk about anything."

"I am not gay!"

They'd reached Hogwarts now and had to leave to go to their separate classes. Harry patted the blonde on the back rather awkwardly.

"See ya, Drake. Remember, anytime you need to talk..."

"I AM NOT GAY, POTTER!"

"Ok, ok. I'll see you later!"

Draco glared at the brunette walking away from him for a long moment, until he realized the conversation and his current behavior were drawing quite a few curious glances from other students. "What're you looking at?" he snapped, striding off towards his own class. Bloody stupid Potter.

--

"Bloody Potter," Draco grumbled, slipping into his seat across from Dean and Seamus. They were in the cafeteria again, and Draco stabbed viciously at the green beans on his plate.

"Roommate problems already, Drake?" asked Seamus when Draco showed no indication of explaining his outburst. The blonde looked up, scowling.

"Not really, just stupid sodding Potter..."

"I thought you liked him," Dean commented, while Seamus looked mildly horrified at Draco's irreverent attitude towards his idol.

"The prat asked me if I was gay!" complained Draco indignantly, expecting equally indignant responses from his companions.

"What, did he have a problem with it?" asked Seamus, now watching Draco slashing his fish into tiny pieces.

"I'm not gay!" exploded Draco, slamming his knife down. Dean looked surprised.

"You're not?" he asked, flinching when Draco shot him a truly murderous glare.

"Why the bloody hell would you think I'm gay?"

By this point, Draco's food had been reduced to an unrecognizable mush; Seamus eyed it a little nervously as he answered.

"Well, you're always so..." He gestured vaguely at Draco. "Your hair and clothes, and the way you eat—"

"When you're not grinding it into tiny little microscopic pieces," Dean quipped; this time, his joke failed to chivy Draco out of his black mood and only earned him another glare even more venomous than the first.

"And you're always staring at Harry's bum," continued Seamus. Draco turned red.

"I do NOT stare at Potter's bum!" he shouted. "You're the one who was swooning over him like a fan girl—"

"Oi! I never looked anywhere below the waist!" retorted Seamus. "And you're always being so prissy about your hair and clothes—"

"That's called being cultured, Finnegan, I'm not surprised you don't understand it," sneered Draco.

"Poncey git!"

"Uncivilized heathen!"

"Guys, we should start heading to class about now," interrupted Dean. "Draco, you did ask why we thought you were gay, Seamus was just explaining. Anyhow, now we know you're not gay so it's all good, ok? Not that either of us would've cared if you were gay—"

"Will everyone just stop with the whole 'if you were gay' thing?!" Draco burst out, angrily. "I got it from Potter this morning, I don't need any from you guys now, ok?"

"All right, all right," Dean soothed, shrugging. "We won't talk about it again, it's irrelevant anyways. Lovely eating with you all, let's get to class." He picked up his tray and stood, prompting Draco and Seamus to stop glaring at each other and do the same.

"Yeah, see you later, sorry I hit on such a sensitive subject, Drake," muttered Seamus, not looking at all apologetic. Draco ignored him; the three dropped their trays off and headed off to their classes.

--

Draco isn't gay, of course he isn't! ...if it's opposite day, that is. Some scenes inspired by Avenue Q. Thanks for those of you who reviewed the last chapter, please let me know how you liked this chapter and how you like the story so far! What do you like/dislike, etc—I welcome your feedback!


	10. Chapter 8: The elusive roommate

Still don't own Harry Potter!

--

            Despite the fact that the first week of school was only just ending and everything was therefore still relatively new, Draco had already settled into a routine.  Every day at 6 am, his cell phone alarm would go off; forty-five minutes later, the sound would finally batter through Draco's unconsciousness and wake him.  He would then stumble blearily into the kitchen and pour himself a cup of coffee, mentally praising whoever it was that invented the automatic coffee maker.  Thus caffeinated into a semblance of wakefulness, the blonde would hog the bathroom until Harry pounded on the door and shouted for five minutes.  After relinquishing the bathroom to Harry, he would retreat to his bedroom to dress and primp for as long as he could before Harry was once again pounding on the door, threatening to either break it down or leave without him. 

The pair usually managed to leave by 8:07; the twenty-minute walk to campus meant that they generally had a scant three minutes to get to their 8:30 classes on time.  At lunch, Draco would eat with Dean and/or Seamus on most days, with Hermione and Ron joining them on occasion.  Then it was back to class or the library to study until 8 pm, after which he would head home and freak Harry out by letting himself into the apartment while the brunette was in the shower.  Once they headed off to their respective classes, he never saw Harry during the day.

It was this last fact that had Draco glaring at the schedules in front of him as he drank his coffee Friday morning.  They had posted them on the refrigerator before the start of classes (mostly to facilitate the unspoken agreement that all roommates seemed to have—loud sex was to be indulged in only when the other roommate was out).  At the time, Draco had glanced over the schedules briefly, noting that they had corresponding lunch breaks twice a week (and that Harry had a heck of a lot more sex time than Draco did, thanks to their majors).  He had assumed that he'd eat lunch with Harry at least once a week, especially when it turned out that those days were the same days that Ron and Hermione were free.  To his annoyance, he had thus far seen neither hide nor hair of Harry outside of their apartment.  He realized that assuming Harry would want to eat with him was a bit presumptuous (they were roommates, not necessarily friends even though he would like them to be); however, he'd gotten the impression that Harry was pretty close to Hermione and Ron, and surely his own company wasn't so horrid that Harry would neglect his best friends just to avoid his roommate.  

Unfortunately, thanks to the embarrassment of having Seamus detail how Draco had appeared to be infatuated with Harry, the blonde now didn't know how to bring the subject up without appearing...well, _gay_.  Though he himself knew perfectly well that his concern was born out of pure manly camaraderie, the ensuing awkwardness from his roommate and friends' mistaken good intentions was far too awful to chance.  Which didn't solve the problem at hand—how could he ask Harry where he'd been while avoiding any confusion about his motivation?  

"Something wrong with my schedule?"

Harry's voice interrupted Draco's pondering, and the blonde looked up to see that the other boy had joined him in contemplating the refrigerator door.

"You're up early," commented Draco, surprised.  Normally, Harry didn't drag himself out of bed until Draco was in the shower.  Harry gave him an odd look as he snagged the box of cereal off of the counter.

"No I'm not, it's already quarter past 7."

"Shit!" yelped Draco, realizing that he had spaced out longer than he'd intended.  He chugged down his now tepid coffee and hurtled off to the bathroom, leaving a mildly amused Harry behind in the kitchen. 

--

            Draco slid into his seat in the front row a fraction of a second before Professor Snape started speaking, earning an irritated glare from the professor (for once however, their relationship worked to their advantage; where Snape would usually draw attention to any latecomers with cutting sarcasm, he did not remark on Draco's entrance).  As the man turned away from them and started writing on the board, Dean elbowed the blonde, who was searching frantically through his things for a writing utensil.

            "What took you so long today, mate, did you oversleep more than usual?" he whispered, passing Draco a pen. 

Draco accepted it from him gratefully and whispered back, "Nah, I just kinda spaced out this morning over coffee."

As Dean rolled his eyes, Professor Snape interrupted them even as he continued putting notes up on the board.  "Mr. Thomas, Mr. Malfoy...Keep in mind that my class is not a time for socializing.  If you two wish to discuss your dinner date, please do so during your own time."  The two boys flushed as the entire class tittered and craned their necks to look at them.

"So much for going easy on his godson," Dean muttered (very quietly) to Draco. 

Even though there was no way he could have heard, Professor Snape still gave him an ugly look and sneered.  Draco waited until Snape's back was turned before scribbling a reply on the corner of Dean's notebook.  _He can read lips, you know_, he scrawled.  Dean looked at him in disbelief before groaning (softly) and giving up.  Both turned their attention to copying notes like everyone else.

--

            "So, what is everybody up to tonight?" asked Seamus, looking around the lunch table.  "Anybody interested in that party on 32nd Street?" 

            Ron perked up.  "You mean Wood's party?" he asked eagerly. 

Seamus nodded.  "The one and only," he confirmed.  "Might be a good time to meet him and make some connections if you're interested."

"Who's Wood?" asked Hermione curiously.  Dean glanced up, listening in absentmindedly (he still remained much more focused on the chef working near the wall opposite him, who was about to put out more servings of freshly cooked Kalbi ribs).  Draco ignored them, too intent on scowling at his food and wondering why Harry wasn't there.  

"He's the captain of the football team," explained Seamus; at the word "football", Hermione's eyes glazed over.  "He's a good guy, best thing that could've happened to the team, really."

Ron picked up enthusiastically where Seamus left off, not noticing that Seamus was the only one listening to him (Dean left the table at this point to snag his beloved Korean barbecue, while Draco seemed to be involved in a glaring contest with his mashed potatoes and Hermione had already tuned out, flipping through her chemistry notes instead).  "Yeah!  Rumor has it he was absolutely incredible, even as a freshman!  What time is the party again, Seamus?"

"10 pm until whenever," answered Seamus.  "You guys going, Dean, Draco?"

Having procured several plates of ribs, Dean finally joined the conversation.  "Eh, I might stop by for a bit," he shrugged.  "I'm more of a soccer person myself, but it'll be nice to relax a bit before hitting the books this weekend."  He and Seamus turned expectantly to Draco, who didn't notice and continued staring down his potatoes.  They watched Draco watch his potatoes for a moment, before Ron jostled the blonde.

"Oi, Drake, you going to the party?" he asked.  Draco snapped out of his daze.

"What party?" he asked, disdainfully edging away from Ron so as to dislodge the boy's elbow from his side.

"Wood's party," said Seamus, slowly.  "You know, the one we've been talking about for the last ten minutes..."

"Oh."  Draco gave his potatoes a final glare for good measure (was Harry going?  How could he ask without setting Seamus off again?).  "I don't know, I might check it out.  Do you know who else is going?"

"Draco, it's _Oliver Wood's_ party!" exclaimed Ron.  "Who knows who will be there!  There will be tons of people drifting in and out the whole time!"

Draco sneered.  "I meant people that we know," he clarified.

"He means Harry," added Dean, rolling his eyes.  Draco flushed.

"Will you drop it already, Dean?" he snapped peevishly (while hoping that Ron would answer the question anyways).  "There's nothing gay about wanting to know why my roommate seems bent on avoiding me!"

"Maybe it's because you're _bent_ on getting into his pants," muttered Seamus.  If looks could kill, Draco's glare would have left Seamus in tiny little unrecognizable pieces strewn over the entire cafeteria.  As it were, the Irish boy merely wilted a bit under Draco's fury.  Ron, on the other hand, looked flabbergasted.

"Malfoy?  Are you...?"

"No!" Draco growled, very emphatically.  "Definitely not!"  Though Seamus, Dean, and Hermione looked somewhat unconvinced, Ron looked infinitely relieved.

"Oh.  That's—that's good, Draco," he babbled.  "Er, you're sure about that, right?" he asked anxiously, as if worried that Draco would jump him any minute.  Draco closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and counted to ten before responding.

"Weasley, I wouldn't bed you if every girl on the planet died and shagging you was the only way to save the Earth from being destroyed by invading alien forces," he drawled, somehow managing to sound cool and disinterested.  Ron beamed at him.

"Fascinating as this all is, we should probably all head to our classes now," reminded Hermione tartly.  The boys groaned but obligingly finished eating and gathered their things up.  As they left, Draco heard Ron babbling on about Wood and football to Hermione (who was almost certainly not paying attention) and cursed.

"Damnit!"

"What?" asked Dean, who was a few paces behind the redhead and so heard Draco's outburst.  The blonde shook his head, frustrated.

"Nothing.  I'll see you later," he muttered, splitting off from the rest of the group to head to class.

He still didn't know if Harry was going to the party or not.

--

I have got to start finding a new way to end chapters...I meant to write more, but I figured I'd already made you guys wait long enough (would you prefer longer chapters with slower updates, or chapters about this length and more frequent updates?) and I want to go to bed.  Sorry about the late update, by the way; I'm afraid it was that time of month when I transform into an Advil-popping ball of pain and rage.  Thank you all for reading/reviewing/adding me to various fav lists and alerts!  I really appreciate your support, and I welcome your input.      


	11. Chapter 9: Oops

Chapter…um I lost track. But yeah, enjoy.

--

Harry quirked an eyebrow at the death glare Draco shot towards him upon entering their apartment.

"Bad day?" he asked, putting down the novel he was reading.

Draco grunted and stalked off to his room without answering. Harry stared after him for a moment before shrugging and picking his book back up. He could hear muffled thumps and swears drifting down the short corridor. It sounded rather like the blonde was beating something (or someone) rather thoroughly.

One minute and twenty-five seconds later, Draco's cursing had steadily increased in volume to the point that Harry found himself reading the same sentence over again for the fifth time; each time he neared the end of the line, some exclamation from Draco would break his train of thought and he'd forget what he'd just read. Exasperated and slightly concerned, Harry sighed, bookmarked the page he was on, and dragged himself off the couch to see what his roommate was up to.

"You ok, Drake?" he queried, poking his head into the blonde's room.

He blinked a bit when he saw Draco seated at his desk, viciously stabbing something in front of him. The other boy didn't respond, completely focused on mutilating the paper on the desk; Harry noticed white cord dangling from his ears and realized Draco was listening to his iPod and hadn't heard him. He stepped into the room, curious to see what the blonde was so intent on abusing. A few feet away, his shadow fell across the desk and Draco finally noticed him.

"Potter!" exclaimed Draco, whirling around and covering the paper up with his arm. "Bloody hell, you nearly gave me a heart attack! What do you want?" When Harry only looked back at him with a rather (cute) wounded expression, Draco faltered. "Er..."

"Never mind," snapped Harry, walking away. "I didn't realize you disliked me so much."

Draco looked guiltily down at the picture of Harry that he'd been mutilating in his frustration, feeling vaguely as if he'd kicked a puppy. He'd tried to cover it up, but it was still glaringly obvious what he'd been abusing.

"Bloody hell," he groaned, dropping his head. He heard the door slam as Harry retreated to his own room and groaned again. He couldn't really fault Harry for reacting badly (most people would be a bit perturbed and offended to find their roommate mangling pictures of them), but still! If Harry hadn't been such a prat about ignoring Draco, Draco would never have done something like this, so it was still the brunette's fault, really...Draco banged his head against the desk again. "Bloody Potter," he complained half-heartedly. He wasn't even convincing himself.

--

"Potter," called Draco, knocking on his flatmate's firmly closed door. "Potter, I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything!"

No answer came, though Draco wasn't surprised. He'd been knocking for the past half hour now to no avail. Sighing, he settled himself on the floor and leaned against the door.

"Harry, I'm sorry," he repeated, addressing his nails (though he hoped Harry could hear him too). "I was just in a bad mood, all right? It didn't mean anything."

He paused, hoping Harry would say something. When he didn't, he pushed himself back up and continued.

"Anyways, I wanted to know if you were interested in Oliver's party tonight; Granger and the Weasel―I mean, Hermione and Ron were talking about checking it out with me, Dean, and Seamus."

There was still no answer, but this time Draco thought he heard some movement from inside the room. Since it didn't sound like Harry was trying to escape through the window or following Draco's lead and mutilating the blonde in effigy, he decided it was as far as he was going to get. Leaning in to the door again, he said, "I'm meeting the others at 10:30, just let me know if you want to walk down together." Finished with his share of groveling for the day (no matter how good Harry was at kicked-puppy eyes, there was only so far a Malfoy would go to apologize), Draco headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. Hopefully, Harry would accept the olive branch he'd offered. If not―Draco scowled, ignoring the little voice in his heart that whimpered sadly at the thought. If not, Potter could just go to hell. He was a _Malfoy_, after all. He'd be fine.

--

Draco glanced at the clock nervously as he ran the comb through his hair (for the eleventh time in the last half hour). It was ten already; and while nobody actually arrived to parties on time, Harry was still cooped up in his room and showed no signs of emerging. The blonde checked out his reflection again before heading into the living room, where he sat down on the couch with his chemistry book to wait.

Fifteen minutes later, he had abandoned all pretense of reading and was pacing back and forth. Several times, he started down the hall towards Harry's room but stopped before knocking on the door again (that would be just too pathetic for him to live down). After five more minutes of frustrated pacing, one kicked chair, and two muttered curses, he gave up and stalked out the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

His cell phone trilled on his way to campus. Without pausing, Draco flipped it open and glanced at the screen―Dean was calling him (ruthlessly, he quashed the twinge of disappointment when it wasn't Harry), probably wondering why he was late.

"Draco, you coming?" asked Dean when Draco picked up.

"Yeah, be there in two minutes," Draco answered tersely. In the background, he heard Seamus ask, "Harry coming?" and hastily hung up before Dean could pass the question on. He was still scowling when he arrived at the fountain where they'd agreed to meet.

"Drakey-poo!" the Weasley twins cheered, ignoring Draco's irritation (there were just too many Weasleys in the world, he thought, gagging a little when he noticed Ron and Hermione trying to snog discreetly in the shadows behind everyone else). "Just the man we've been waiting for!"

"But where's ickle Harrikins?" asked George, whose grin only grew wider as Draco's scowl deepened.

"Trouble in paradise?" suggested Fred, eyes wide in mock horror. "Or was it…"

"A lover's spat, maybe?" finished George, winking.

Fred gasped. "Ooooh…"

"Drakey-poo, you better buy some flowers…" George snickered.

"Or candy…" Fred chimed in.

"Or we'll just lock you two up in a room with a box of condoms for a few hours," suggested Seamus, trying to leer (though he only succeeded in looking somewhat constipated).

Fred and George jumped on this new idea gleefully.

"Capital idea, Seamus!"

"Smashing! Fred, mate, you buy the condoms and I'll pick up the lube, deal?"

"But does ickle Drakey-poo know what to do with them?" cackled Fred.

"It's quite simple, really―" began George.

"Don't be silly, wrap your willy!" chanted Fred.

"Don't be a loner, cover your boner!"

"Especially in December, gift-wrap your member?" suggested Seamus.

Fred and George both paused to look at him, cocking their heads to the side as they considered this. They left off badgering Draco (to the blonde's immense relief) and circled Seamus, scrutinizing him.

Fred conceded, "It's not bad for a beginner. George, what say you?"

"He has promise," proclaimed George, his face solemn.

"A tad awkward―"

"―but that's to be expected from a novice―"

"Not bad, not bad at all!" they finished together, giving Seamus a round of applause.

"Where _is_ Harry?" asked Dean (quietly, so as not to attract the twins' attention).

Draco shrugged. "Didn't feel like coming," he answered, keeping his face blank.

Dean looked a bit skeptical but thankfully didn't press for details. Instead he turned and hollered, "Ron! Are you and 'Mione finished sucking face? Let's go!"

Ron and Hermione broke apart amid whistles and catcalls (courtesy of Fred and George, mostly), both blushing heavily. Ron looked somewhat dazed at his good luck and grinned beatifically at everyone, even with his ears red enough to match his hair; Hermione merely glared everyone into cowed submission as she patted her hair back into place. As they set off towards Oliver's apartment, Draco checked his phone once more.

"What time is it?" asked Dean, who caught the move but graciously pretended not to know what Draco was really doing.

"Five past eleven," Draco answered, tucking his cell back into his pocket. To his disappointment, there had been no missed calls or new messages --Harry still hadn't called.

--

Really sorry about the long delay…I flew home and I just haven't been able to get back into the feel of the story. Many thanks to everyone who reads (especially scarves and ink for PMing me!), I really appreciate your support and suggestions/comments. Please review! I should mention that the condom jokes are not mine, I forget who made them up but I heard them somewhere.


	12. Chapter 10: The party

Everything was far too loud.

That was all Draco could think, as he slouched in a corner nursing a crappy beer and ignoring the pretty (if somewhat vapid looking) sorority girls who giggled and tried to catch his eye. It wasn't that he was entirely unfamiliar with the party scene; after all, he, Blaise, and Theo went clubbing often enough, though they always told their unsuspecting parents that it was a "sleepover." It was just that this one was rather tedious for some reason. At any rate, the raucous college party was a far cry from the elegant evening affairs his mother dragged him to. He amused himself for a moment picturing some of the ladies from his mother's various society clubs grinding and bumping against each other like the students here were doing, until his mind supplied him with an unfortunate image of Cornelius Fudge trying to "drop it like it's hot." Barely suppressing the shudder elicited by that thought, he returned his attention to his surroundings.

One bleached-blonde girl in a mini-dress was dancing on a table now, carried away by the excitement of the party and probably a fair amount of alcohol. Her friends huddled around the table, cheering her on drunkenly; he saw Oliver Wood catcalling and egging her on, while Dean looked mildly embarrassed for the girl and appeared to be trying to talk her down. A diminutive brunette in the cluster of girls by the table caught Draco's eye. She was pretty in a tomboyish way, with a messy pixie cut and bright green eyes; currently, she was dancing alone, slender hips swaying to the beat as she laughed. Deciding he might as well enjoy himself while he was here, Draco set his beer down and made his way through the crowd towards her.

A new song was starting when he reached her, and Draco picked up the beat easily, interposing himself into the group without difficulty. As her friends giggled, he locked eyes with his target and flashed her a dazzling smile. Suddenly faced with the attention of the hot blond man in front of her, the brunette faltered and missed a beat, one hand coming up nervously to toy with her hair. Draco didn't blame her for being nervous though; he'd perfected that smile after his first few times to the club, and it was pretty much guaranteed to get him a free drink (if the bartender was female) and make all the girls within a five foot radius of him swoon.

Still dancing, he leaned in closer and asked, "I haven't seen you around campus before, what's your name?"

"Um—" The poor girl stammered, completely undone by Draco's proximity now (he snickered inwardly; Blaise had always complained about the blonde's ability to make otherwise poised girls go completely tongue-tied with a simple smile). One of her friends nudged her and hissed "Lena!"; the brunette grasped onto it and gasped "Um, it's Lena, Lena! I think…" she muttered. Draco turned his smile up a notch; at this point, a few girls were actually drooling over him, and he very graciously complimented her.

"Lena, that's such a pretty name. My name's Draco; may I have the honor of this dance with you?" he asked, purposely using an overly formal method of inviting her to dance, but delivered with such a devastating smile and eyebrow quirk that he seemed charming rather than old-fashioned or out of place (he preened again to himself when she was completely swept away by the ploy; it was sometimes tricky to pull off, and he could definitely remember some of his earlier attempts that had resulted in completely skeeving people out. Then he mentally stomped on his own foot when he realized he was starting to space out instead of paying attention to the girl in front of him, who had just squealed, "Yes!" in response to his invitation).

"I mean sure, that's cool," she corrected, shooting a look of triumph at her friends, who were jealously murmuring amongst themselves.

As they started dancing, she looked up at Draco coyly, regaining her composure enough to check him out discreetly. Draco looked back at her, absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes (and promptly shattering any semblance of calmness on the girl's part) so he could see them better. They were very pretty eyes, really; a vivid green color almost as intense as Harry's eyes— he cut off that train of thought before it could go any further, scowling briefly. luckily, Lena chose that moment to speak.

"You're not much of a talker, are you?" she asked, leaning closer so he could hear her above the music.

Draco shrugged, glad to use the opportunity to distract himself. "I was just thinking of how pretty your eyes were," he explained, watching her face light up in a smile. "Plus, the music is a bit too loud to be yelling over."

"That's true," she agreed. "You wanna grab a drink and go hang out outside for awhiles? It's getting kinda stuffy in here."

Draco directed another brilliant smile towards her (if he came with sound effects, there would've been a *ting* sound as light reflected off his teeth) and began easing them through the crowd towards the drinks. "Sounds good to me," he said, grabbing two beers as they passed the table and made their way outside. Unfortunately, Fred and George caught sight of him at the door and promptly converged on him, grinning evilly.

"Well, well, what have we here?" asked George, leering exaggeratedly at Lena, who giggled and drew back closer to Draco.

"Ickle Drakey-poo found a girl!" Fred exclaimed, clasping his hands together and pretending to beam tearfully. "Oh, I'm so proud!"

"But doesn't she look familiar, brother mine?" suggested George, peering closely at Lena, who was starting to look slightly uncomfortable now (after all, she wasn't _quite_ that drunk yet).

"George," warned Draco, glaring at the twins, who ignored him.

"Indeed, dear George," conceded Fred. "That messy brown hair—"

"Those lovely green eyes—" continued George.

"Methinks Draco has found himself a female version of his dear Harri—agh!" Fred suddenly found himself unable to continue, as his throat was suddenly being held quite firmly by a very irate blond.

"Do _not_ finish that sentence," Draco stated, his voice menacing. Fred nodded frantically, and Draco let go, stepping away and turning to look at Lena, who was edging away nervously. Upon being caught, she laughed uneasily.

"Er, Draco, it's nice meeting you and all but I just remembered my friends and I were going to meet…" Draco tuned her out, waving her off before fixing his attention on the twins again. He glared at them and got no effect whatsoever (mentally, he reminded himself to check his glare in the mirror when he got home; perhaps its potency was wearing off?).

"Care to explain what the fuck that was all about?" he growled. Fred and George each linked their arms through his, steering him over to a table and sitting down.

"You see, Drakey-poo," began Fred.

"Don't call me that!" Draco snarled. George patted him on the back gingerly, handing him a beer.

"Calm down, Draco, we did it for your good," he said.

"We don't usually cock block," Fred tried again.

"It goes against the bro code, you know," inserted George.

"But this time, we felt we really had to warn you about Lena—"

"She's a right bitch, that one—"

Draco interrupted George at this point, still scowling. "What do I care? It's not like I planned on dating her or anything more than a quick shag."

"Ah, but you see, dear Draco," Fred continued. "Our lovely Lena has a bit of a reputation for crying wolf, so to speak—"

"To put it bluntly, she does this every year to some poor bloke," said George.

"Finds someone rich, shags him, then goes crying to daddy that she was raped," explained Fred. "Most of the time, there's no evidence and it's obvious that she's making it up—"

"But she finds people who are rich enough that they would rather pay her to stay quiet than make a fuss in the media," finished George.

Draco looked at them blankly. "What makes you think she would do that to me?" he asked. Fred and George exchanged a glance that spoke volumes (but unfortunately held no meaning to Draco. Perhaps it was some kind of twin code).

"Look, Draco," George began. "We know who you are."

"We know your parents are pretty important people," continued Fred. "I'm assuming you came here to get away from the fame the same way Harry did—"

George interrupted, "But we're not stupid, and neither is Lena. You can bet—"

"—your ass that she knows who you are too," Fred completed the sentence.

Draco groaned, dropping his head into his hands while Fred and George watched sympathetically. _So even here, there's no getting away from those people_, he thought disconsolately. He wondered faintly how many of the new friends he'd made were real and how many were just hoping to use him.

Seeming to read his mind, Fred said, "Ron knows, and I bet Hermione knows too—"

"—just because she knows everything," added George cheekily.

"But Dean and Seamus probably don't know, they don't really follow anything in the business world," said Fred.

"Don't worry, Drakey-poo," cajoled George, earning a glare from the blond. "Your friends are really your friends, either they don't know or they only found out after you became friends."

"What about Harry?" asked Draco, then immediately wishing he hadn't. To his surprise, Fred answered seriously instead of beginning another round of teasing like he expected.

"I don't know if he knows, but you shouldn't worry about it either way," he said. "Harry's not like that, he won't treat you any differently."

"Oh." Draco was quiet for a moment before speaking. "Thanks, you guys."

"No problem!" reassured George, clapping him on the back. "Now then—" his eyes took on a wicked gleam.

"—just why were you so interested in ickle Harrikins, hmm?" asked Fred.

Draco rolled his eyes and flipped them off. "Don't you guys have anything better to do? I thought you guys were here with your girlfriends?" he asked, recalling that he'd seen them earlier with two athletic looking girls.

Fred shrugged. "Eh, the ladies excused themselves to use the facilities awhile ago—"

"You know girls, they go to the bathroom in pairs or groups, spend an hour in there doing who knows what," interrupted George.

"I wonder what they _do_ do in there, though?" Fred mused, a somewhat dreamy look in his eyes (no doubt thinking of some much-cherished fantasy). Draco snorted.

"Whatever it is, I doubt it's anywhere near as Sapphic as you're hoping," he commented, standing up. "Thanks guys, I think I'll head home now. Tell the others I left, if they look for me." Bidding the twins farewell, he made his way outside and started walking home.

----

When he let himself into the apartment, Harry was just walking out of the living room; apparently, he'd been gathering some things up and had turned to retreat to his room upon hearing Draco at the door.

Normally, Draco would ignore his roommate's behavior. He wasn't one to beg or grovel, especially for someone that he didn't know well; he'd been brought up knowing that except for rare circumstances, _he_ was the one that others sought to curry favor with. Whether it was the beer he'd drank or if it was just another instant of his mouth going off without his brain (which seemed to happen a lot around Harry), he found himself trying to apologize to Harry again before he knew it.

"Harry, wait!" Draco hurried across the living room towards the brunette, who had reached his room. "I'm sorry!" He stuck a foot in the door, preventing Harry from closing it. "Look, I said I was sorry, why are you making such a big deal?" Harry glared at him and Draco groaned inwardly, realizing how he had sounded. "No, I didn't mean—I mean, it was totally my fault, but I really am sorry—" He caught sight of Harry's room behind the brunette and stopped, agape. "Harry? What…"

Normally, Harry's room was a mess. Draco didn't usually go in there, but sometimes he'd walk past to go to the bathroom, and the door would be open so of course he'd look. Each time, the floor would be strewn with clothes, papers, books, and random objects; the dying plant hanging near the window would be shedding dried leaves (Draco was pretty sure the only reason it wasn't completely dead yet was because Neville came by every few weeks and rescued it from the brink of death); and just covered with signs of Harry's presence.

This time, the room looked practically empty, even more than when Harry had first moved in. Large expanses of carpet were actually visible, and the only belongings in sight were the plant and a large assortment of boxes and suitcases. Stunned, Draco looked back at Harry, who returned his gaze impassively.

"Harry?" Draco repeated, hating the plaintive note in his own voice. "What are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" snorted Harry, glaring at the blond. "I'm moving out tomorrow; if you can't find another roommate, I'll pay for my half of the rent anyways. Now if you don't mind, I was going to go to sleep." He glared pointedly at Draco's foot, which was still blocking the door.

Vaguely, Draco noticed that he was shaking and an odd tingling sensation was moving up his arms and legs and spreading across his face. He forced himself to breathe, holding on to the doorframe tightly. A brief flash of what might have been concern showed in Harry's eyes, but it was gone a second later when Draco looked more closely.

"Why are you moving out?" he asked, wondering why his voice was so steady. His arm muscles tightened, forcing his fingers together painfully; he knew soon his legs would follow suit and cramp as well. His whole body was reacting painfully to Harry's words; and yet his voice was so damned calm!

Meanwhile, Harry looked incredulous. "Why am I moving out?" he repeated, shaking his head. "Dra—_Malfoy—_" Draco flinched at the name, but Harry continued, his voice rising. "I don't even know why I moved in to start with! You obviously still hate me, I'm not staying around for you to set me up again for your own twisted amusement!"

Draco's heart sank as he realized that Harry had not forgotten him, like he'd hoped. _Of course not_, he thought bitterly. _You made his life hell for so long, how could he forget?_ Still, when Harry had moved in, he'd hoped it was his opportunity to start over.

"Harry, I'm sorry—" he began, but Harry cut him off.

"You know, I actually thought you'd changed," the brunette said, lowering his voice again. "When Ron said you seemed like a pretty decent guy after meeting you, I thought maybe you were different now. And then you seemed nice enough when I met you again myself." He sounded a bit wistful, thought it could have been Draco's imagination because his voice hardened again. "I'm not the same kid I was back then, Malfoy. Don't think I'm going to let anyone walk all over me again."

"Harry, wait, let me explain—" Draco tried again, but Harry just glared at him.

"I am going to sleep now. Good bye, Draco!" he exclaimed, shoving the blond.

Taken by surprise, Draco lost his balance and stumbled backwards; Harry took the opportunity to close the door firmly. Before Draco could push it open again, he heard the click of the lock engaging.

"Shit," he swore, sinking down to the carpet. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!"

---------

Look at that, an update! I'm not too fond of this chapter, but oh well. Thanks everyone who has been reading, hopefully I'll be able to update a *tad* more often now. Feed the author reviews, please and thanks!

Just some notes -- no, Draco is not gay, he dated Pansy for a bit and was mildly interested in those chicks in the beginning of the story, remember? He'll be bi though. Just some reassurance for those of you waiting for Draco/Harry action (which is a long ways down the road, but it'll come. Come. Hehe. I am so immature sometimes).

-Also, as much as I would love to make Seamus and Dean a couple, I just don't think it would be realistic for this world if all of Draco's friends were gay/bi.

-I'm sorry about wandering in random directions and not being very focused in this chapter, I was tired.

-Lena probably won't make another appearance unless I require her services later on; at this point, I don't have any plans to use her again, but I might if something occurs to me. Probably not though, since I generally avoid using original characters too much.


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